


lights in the shadow of heaven

by OpheliaMarina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, royal!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaMarina/pseuds/OpheliaMarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean would be a better knight than Dad, though," Sam said. "Better than anyone."<br/>"I think so," Castiel said.<br/>Sam met his eyes, then grinned, a bit ruefully. <br/>"I know you do," he said. </p>
<p>(Once upon a time there was a prince, a blacksmith's apprentice, his little brother, and an oil shortage.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lights in the shadow of heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Bee, who made a prompt about this literally months ago. Sorry it took me so long to fill, and hope you enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a young, handsome prince who lived in a shining castle, and he was very unhappy.

In actuality, though, the prince was not so much handsome as he was pretty, and the castle did not shine most of the time and was kind of dingy in some places. But the prince was very unhappy. That much was true.

The prince's name was Castiel, and he was one of the youngest in a long, long line of royal siblings. This meant he was unlikely ever to be king, but he didn't mind so much. The squabbling of his brothers and sisters over the throne did not bother him so much as the lights worried him. 

"The lights are out again," he said, his bedroom curtain pulled aside as he stared out over the dark kingdom. All the little thatched-roof houses had their windows drawn shut and their candles out, even though the sun had only just set. 

Meg, from where she was making his bed, rolled her eyes. "Very observational today, Your Highness. Of course they're out. They're almost always out nowadays."

"Why?" Castiel asked, turning away from the window. 

"Because no one has any oil," Meg said carelessly, fluffing up his pillows. "No one can afford it. These pillows worthy of your royal head yet, my lord?" 

Even Anna disapproved of Meg as Castiel's personal maid, and Michael and Zachariah had been actively trying to get her fired for years. But Castiel had refused to get rid of her, and their lord father never gave Michael the right to fire his sibling's servants. Meg was condescending, insubordinate, patronising, and sometimes cruel, but she wasn't bad at her job and Castiel liked her. No one else would tell a fledgling prince that his people couldn't afford the necessity of oil. 

"Why can't people afford oil?" Castiel asked. "The people's economy is the same as ever. Has the price gone up?" 

"Uh, yeah," Meg said, folding over the sheet's corners. "The stores of oil are running out, so the prices are ridiculous.

"There's a surplus of oil in the palace-" Castiel began, but Meg just laughed. 

"If your high lord brother wanted to distribute the royal stocks of oil, he would have done so already," Meg said, chuckling. She looked up, caught sight of Castiel's frown, and sighed. 

"Look, sweetheart, there's nothing I can do about the lights, and you're not going to fix it by staring down at the village and pouting about it. If you're looking for help, I would suggest taking it up with your saintly sister. She seems to be the only one to give a shit lately."

So Castiel went to Anna. 

xxx

The Princess Anna was beautiful and wise, and she was headstrong enough to keep the High Prince Michael wary of her. She was also the only person Castiel could turn to about the lights. 

"My lord brother," she said, looking up at Castiel through her mirror as he slipped quietly into her bedroom. She stood up from where her maid was brushing her hair and kissed him on the cheek. "What brings you here?" 

"There is something that has been troubling me," Castiel said. "A matter I wish to discuss with you privately."

Anna's lips pressed together, and she nodded. "Leave us," she said to her maid, who curtsied to them both and left. Then she sat down on the edge of her bed. 

"Sit," she said, and Castiel sat. "What is it that's been troubling you, Castiel?" 

"The people of the kingdom don't have oil," Castiel said. "The lights don't come on at night. We need to do something." 

Anna bit her lip. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I noticed that as well. What do you suggest we do?"  
Castiel let out a quiet sigh of relief, for in Anna he had found the ally he needed. "I don't know," he said. "We have more oil in our stocks than we will ever use, but Michael will not give any to the people. It would be impossible to distribute the surplus we have at hand." 

But Anna's eyes had lit up. "Unless," she said, and she was suddenly up off the bed, and on her knees by a chest next go her vanity, "unless... someone were to smuggle the oil out of the castle."

"What?" Castiel said, as Anna opened the trunk and began to rummage through it. "Like- a servant?"

"No," Anna said, her voice muffled due to the fact that it was almost entirely buried in the chest. "No, all the servants are under Zachariah's thumb, you know that. Except for yours, and she's watched every time she takes a step out of routine. It's got to be you."

And with that, she pulled a heap of dirty brown cloth from the chest and tossed it to a stunned Castiel. 

"You can get your maid to bring some oil to you in your chambers," Anna said in a low voice, sliding in next to him again. "And then sneak out of the castle. I'll show you where to go. Then you can distribute the oil amongst the people secretly." 

"What are these?" Castiel asked, staring bewilderedly at the burlap cloth, holding it out at arm's length. He looked over the cloth at Anna. "And I've never been to the villages, I'd have no idea what to do!"

Anna shrugged. "They're commoner's clothes," she said, indicating the cloth. "They're mine. But they're meant for males anyways. They'll fit you better than they did me. And there's nothing to fear in the villages. I've been there plenty of times."

Castiel lowered the clothes. "You have?"

Anna nodded, looking guilty and proud at once. "Yes," she said. "I used to go very often, but Michael found out and now he has servants spy on me so I can't leave. That's why you must go. They won't suspect you."

Castiel looked over at the clothes again, warily. Anna's hand closed over his.

"I know it is a risk, brother," she said softly, "and I know you have never left the castle on your own. But I also know how much the lights mean to you. And it is the duty of royalty to aid his or her people, even when the reigning monarch will not." 

xxx

That was how Castiel ended up in the village square, far beneath the walls and windows of the castle, swathed in burlap and carrying a bag full of oil canisters. 

Anna's peasant clothes were itchy and uncomfortable, but roomier than his normal clothes, and cool in the hot summer sun. People bustled all about him, chattering and pushing, buying and selling. 

"Locket for your sweetheart, dearie?" an old woman called to him. "Trinket for your love?"

He shook his head, backing away, only to be buffeted back into the centre of the throng, merchants shouting unintelligibly to him and those around him, people around him yelling at each other. The world began to spin. 

Finally, he managed to wriggle in behind a stall and crouch down, holding the bag tightly to his chest and breathing deeply. 

Castiel had spent his entire life in castles, either his own or distant foreign ones. He'd never been in a village before, and he'd certainly never had to commute. Commuting was loud, hot, difficult, and invasive. He closed his eyes.

The darkness of a lightless kingdom stretched far out in front of him in the space behind his eyelids. 

Slip the canisters into people's bags, Anna had said. The people won't notice until they reach home, and when they get there, they'll think it a gift.

Castiel stood up again. He squirmed his way back out of the stall and let himself be pushed back info the fray.

The first oil recipient was a little girl, blonde hair braided down her back, who had blushed up at Castiel as she hurried by. He only just managed to slip a canister in her basket as she passed. 

A second, a third, a fourth soon followed, and Castiel began to relax; his bag grew less heavy, the sun grew less hot. 

The fifth canister was when things went awry.

A hand came out of nowhere and clamped down on his wrist. He dropped the oil, and another hand scooped it up.

"That oil?"

"Yeah- 'e must be a vendor or summat-"

"Haven't seen an oil vendor in weeks-"

Three boys were suddenly positioned in a circle around Castiel, one holding the canister, another Castiel's arm, the third moving worryingly closer to his bag. They were thinner than he was, but not a lot taller, and when he tried to wrench his arm free, it slipped through the boy's fingers easily.

"You can keep that," he said, backing away and gesturing to the oil, "it's fine-" 

"He probably has more-"

"In the bag-"

"Oil probably sells like mad-"

Suddenly his arms were twisted around his back, and hands were tugging at his bag, trying to tear it from the straps. Castiel struggled and kicked, but as a combined force the boys overpowered him. They continued to talk excitedly to each other as they pulled at him.

"We probably could make a fortune-"

"Buy a real cake-" 

Castiel managed to kick one in the chest, sending him backwards and setting the bag momentarily free. The other two stared, then turned to him with new rage.

"You-"

He didn't entirely expect the clumsy, knuckly fist that came bashing into his nose.   
It didn't hurt as much as it could have, Castiel supposed, but it did hurt quite a lot. He hadn't been hit in the face since he had been thirteen and Meg had hit him with the door, and this stung considerably more. 

He reeled backwards into another boy, nearly managing to fell him with a combination of surprise, weight, and flailing limbs. But he was grabbed from behind again and pulled upright, and then the other boy's fist was in the air again. Castiel closed his eyes. 

"Hey."

The fist didn't come. Castiel opened his eyes. 

The other two boys were being held back by a taller, broader-shouldered man of Castiel's age, or somewhere near it. He looked unamused at the sight of Castiel and the others, and slightly irritated. 

"Didn't I tell you to mug people somewhere else?" the man said. "Let him go." 

The boy released Castiel, but said sullenly, "You don't own the square, you Winchester bas-"

The man twisted the boys' arms, making them yelp, then he let them go and they ran off as a pack, howling obscenities. 

Castiel bent down to pick up the oil. The man watched him as he straightened and brushed himself off. "You're bleeding," he said. 

Castiel blinked, then touched his nose. Once the injury had been brought to his attention, the throbbing pain became a lot more acute. His fingers came away wet and red. He stared at them. "It seems I am."

He looked between the oil canister in his hands and the man, then held it out to him. "Here," he said. "For saving me. Thank you.”

The man eyed the canister suspiciously, then took it. "Is this why they came after you?" he asked, looking over it carefully. "You ought to be more careful. People would kill for this stuff."

"Thank you for your concern," Castiel said. "I will be more cautious." He gave the man a quick bow, then made to return to the square. 

"Wait!" The man's hand landed on his shoulder. "You're covered in blood, you can't go back info the market. You'll scare people."

"Oh," Castiel said. Hesitantly, he ran a hand across his face. It came back smeared with blood and made his nose throb more painfully. 

The man made a frustrated sound. "For the love of- Virgin Mother. Come on."

Castiel looked up. "What?" 

The man jerked his head. "I work in the forge over there. I won't be able to fix your nose if those sons of bitches broke it, but we can at least clean it up there."

He reached for Castiel's arm, but Castiel backed away. "I couldn't ask you to-"

"Look, if you don't get the blood off they're going to put you in the stocks. I'm assuming you don't live nearby?"

Castiel shook his head. Blood spattered in tiny droplets on the ground. The man rolled his eyes in a way eerily reminiscent of Meg. "Come on, then."

And he led Castiel out of the square.

xxx

"I'm Dean, by the way," said the man, a while later in a dark forge, handing Castiel a damp cloth. He had been seated on the floor by a roaring fire, next to an assortment of half-formed and misshapen weaponry. "Of Winchester. I'm the blacksmith's apprentice."

"I'm Cas-" Castiel paused, rubbing the cloth against his cheek. "I'm Cas." 

"Huh," Dean of Winchester said. "Well, nice to meet you, Cas."

Dean of Winchester was beautiful, despite the fact that he was smeared with both sweat and soot. He was tall, and muscular, and had bright green eyes that caught the fire's light whenever his head moved. He wore the heavy apron of a blacksmith and poorly maintained commoner's clothes beneath it. 

Castiel didn't know what to make of him.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, getting up off the floor and stoking at the fire. "How come you have oil?"

Castiel blinked, rubbing at his nose. "I don't live around here," he began, after a moment's pause.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, that much was obvious. Must be pretty foreign if you've never been mugged before, though."

Castiel ignored the jibe. "I was trying to distribute the surplus in my family," he said. "I had no idea the situation was so desperate that people would resort to thievery." 

"That's not it," Dean said, picking up a hammer. "People just steal things, Cas, and don't take this the wrong way, but you look like easy prey."

He caught sight of Castiel's expression and laughed. "Oh, come on."

"That may be true," Castiel allowed. "But even so."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Well, no one has oil. Can't blame people from going a little crazy. So be careful out there, Cas."

"I-" Castiel began, but then a man with a scruffy beard came into the forge, scowling at Dean. 

"You slacking off, boy?"

"Not at all," Dean said, giving the man a salute Castiel believed was meant sarcastically, then swung the hammer down. It clanged against a sheet of metal, and Castiel jumped.  
The bearded man gave Castiel a hard look. "Who's this, then?"

"Cas," Dean said, without looking up. "Got beat up outside. I was just helping him out."

"You steal anything," the man said to Castiel, "I'll kill you." 

Castiel swallowed.

"Go easy on yourself, old man," Dean said. "Anyway, Cas, this is my boss Bobby Singer."

Castiel frowned up at the man. He looked like a formidable blacksmith, but not so much one that could carry a tune. "Singer?"

Dean grinned, a hint of maliciousness peeking out as he looked sideways at Bobby Singer. "People call him that because he works the metal like it can sing."

"Not the only thing I'll make sing if you keep bringing vagrants into my store, boy,"   
Bobby Singer said darkly, and he shuffled over to another fireplace and pulled a pan out of it. Dean rolled his eyes. 

"Don't mind him," he said. "Just an old grump." He said this loud enough to get Bobby scowling and muttering at him again. 

Castiel looked between them, then stood. "I must go," he said. "Thank you for all your help, Dean. I am in your debt."

He gave Dean a bow, and another to Bobby Singer, and left, bumping into a thin man on the way out and causing his bag to swing. 

"He probably stole something," Bobby muttered. "Too soft for yer own good, you goddamn idgit." 

Dean just smirked, and brought the hammer down again. 

xxx

"Lord Christ," Gabriel said, examining Castiel closely. "Who hit you? I sincerely hope you did something sacrilegiously terrible to deserve it, and if so, I demand details." 

"No one hit me," Castiel said. "Meg accidentally ran into me. No harm done."

Meg nodded dutifully, a basket of sullied clothes in her arms. "Yep," she said. "A complete mistake. Certainly won't happen again."

Balthazar scowled at her, pushing Gabriel aside and looking over Castiel's slightly swollen nose and half-formed black eye. "Did she run into you while carrying a lance?" 

Gabriel laughed. "Nah, he probably would've had to have been within a mile's radius of the tourney fields for that, and we all know the likelihood of-"

Samandriel, looking concerned and a little annoyed, pushed both Balthazar and Gabriel aside and took Castiel's face in both hands, turning it from side to side.

"Nothing appears broken," he said. "But I would suggest looking in with the doctor, brother."

Castiel pushed his hands gently away. "Thank you, Samandriel. It's already been looked at, there's nothing to worry about. Just a small injury." 

Anna swept by, giving him a meaningful look, and he ignored her to the best of his ability. Behind her followed Michael, looking annoyed. He spared Castiel a look, did a slight double take, and stopped.

"Castiel, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Castiel said, irritation beginning to creep into his voice. "Meg ran into me by accident, I fell the wrong way. It's nothing."

Balthazar and Gabriel were heading off, snickering and throwing amused glances back at Castiel and Michael, and Samandriel had followed after Anna. Michael gave Castiel an appraising look. Castiel stood still. 

"You ought to give your maid a talking to," Michael said at last.

"Yes, my lord," Castiel muttered.

"You know I would prefer if she left this household, but I have no control over the servants you keep."

"Yes, my lord." 

"Even so," Michael said, reaching down and ruffling Castiel's hair, "you must take better care of yourself, brother. I worry about you sometimes." 

Castiel gave him a weak smile. "Thank you, my lord. I will."

Michael nodded. "All right then. Go on."

Castiel bowed and hurried away. 

xxx

When he entered his room, Meg was sitting cross-legged on his bed folding laundry, and Anna was sitting primly at his desk, giving her dirty looks. He closed the door and sighed. 

"So?" Meg said, without looking up. "How'd it go?"

"You know," Anna said, "perhaps this is a conversation better held in private-"

"Um, excuse me, Your Highness," Meg said, turning over a pair of stockings and smoothing them out. "Did you sneak into the royal stores of oil, past four armed guards, and smuggle a bag's worth out for a cause you don't even really give a shit about, and then proceed to lie to the High Prince Michael about an injury his baby brother sustained that you didn't actually cause? Because I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure that was actually me." 

"You may both stay," Castiel said, sinking down onto the edge of his bed. "Please do not argue. I'm tired." 

Anna gave him a sympathetic look. "It must have been trying."

"What, not wearing silk?" Meg said. "I'm sure. Come on, my lord, what actually happened to your face?"

Castiel cut off whatever indignant comment Anna prepared to make with, "A group of boys attempted to mug me."

Both girls stared. He shrugged one shoulder. "I kicked one, and another punched me in the nose. They were looking to take my oil."

"How did you escape?" Anna said, her voice hushed.

"I didn't," he said. "A nearby blacksmith's apprentice scared them off and helped me clean the blood off. He was very kind to me."

Meg made a sound low in her throat. "Was he well-endowed?" 

"Margaret!" Anna said, sounding scandalised, but Castiel ignored her. 

"His name is Dean, of Winchester. He works for a blacksmith named Bobby Singer. Do you know him, Meg?"

Meg shook her head. "I don't know many people in the village. His High Highness doesn't like me leaving the castle, remember? Thinks I'll run off your royal secrets."

"You're all right, though?" Anna said, looking at Castiel. "Not- hurt."

"I'm not frightened off the idea, if that's what you mean," Castiel said dryly. "I'm fine, truly. And I was able to distribute all of the oil, mostly successfully." 

Anna's face lit up, and she clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, Castiel! That's wonderful!"

"Unexpected," Meg said. "But good job." 

"I'm proud of you, Castiel," Anna said. "It's the right thing to have done. The noble thing."

"I suppose it was," Castiel said. His eyes strayed to the window. Anna followed his gaze, and her face broke into a smile. "Oh," she breathed.

Small but sure, tiny candles were flickering in windows, sporadically spaced and concentrated mainly in the centre of the village, but certain. Castiel moved quietly to the window and looked out onto the kingdom, a soft smile working its way across his face.

"Well, Your Highness," Meg said, and he could hear in her voice the wry smile she often wore, "you did it."

He nodded, silently. Then he said, "I think I should like to go again tomorrow." 

The fire of the forge shone brightest in the darkness, far down below Castiel's window, and around it sat little budding lights, glowing in the night. 

xxx

"I'd like you to have these."

Dean of Winchester looked down at the three oil canisters in Castiel's hand. "What?"

"For helping me yesterday. It's not an entirely adequate repayment, but I hope it is acceptable." 

"Whoa," Dean said. "I mean, whoa. I can't take that. We're in the middle of an oil shortage."

"I'm aware," Castiel said. "Which is why you ought to take it. I'm selling whatever my family can spare anyway, so this is a better repayment than money. This is the best way for me to express my gratitude."

Dean looks from the oil to Castiel to the oil again, and then takes it cautiously. "Well, hey. Thanks. Really."

"It's no problem," Castiel said. "Thank you."

He gave slightly awkward bow and made to leave, but Dean caught his arm.

"Hey, wait a second," Dean said. When Castiel turns back around, he drops his arm and starts rummaging through a tray of silver. "You going out to sell more oil?"

"Um," Castiel said. "Yes."

"Take this," Dean said, plucking up a simple, slightly misshapen knife and pressing it into his hand, then laughing at the look on Castiel's face. "You don't need to use it, just wave it around and yell and you'll scare any bastards off." 

"I- will keep that in mind," Castiel said uncertainly, weighing the knife with one hand and slipping it under his crude leather belt. "Thank you. I will return it before nightfall."  
Dean waved a hand. "It's fine, you don't need to-"

Castiel gave a small half-smile. "I do not think it wise to take anything without paying. Smith Singer appears to distrust me anyways, and I think I ought not give him cause."  
Dean gave a full laugh at that, his eyes crinkling, and he clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "Fair enough. In that case, see you later, I guess." 

Castiel nodded and headed out, slipping some oil into the bag of a woman bustling by and fingering the knife at his waist.

xxx

The day went fairly successfully, far better by yesterday's standards. Castiel was not attacked by anyone, and he was barely noticed- except by one old woman, who saw him drop a canister into a little boy's satchel. She grasped his shoulder tightly, and he tensed up until she pressed a dry kiss to his cheek and murmured, "Bless you, sir."

Almost all the oil was gone when Castiel returned to the forge, a crack of darkness beginning to creep underneath the horizon. 

"The fact that this knife isn't bloody is at once a relief and little disappointing," Dean remarked, examining it before placing it on the tray again. "So I'm guessing things went well then, Cas?"

"Very much so, thank you," Castiel said, standing back by the fire as the forge slowly emptied itself of customers. The forge was somewhat small, and full of people, and every time someone bumped into Castiel he was able to slip some of the remaining oil into their bags.

The fire was hot, and filled Castiel with warmth from head to toe. 

"How come your family has all this oil?" Dean said, wiping his forehead with the back of hand and leaving a streak of black behind. 

"It's been stored in the family for a long time," Castiel said. "Mainly we use it for ourselves, but the shortage made it seem a better idea to make it available to others."

"I see," Dean said. "So you'll be back at it tomorrow?"

Castiel looked up from the fire. "Hopefully."

Dean grinned at him, lifting a glowing rod and blowing on it. "Awesome."

"I-" Castiel said, putting a hand in the bag and feeling it was empty, "I have to go. Thank you again, Dean. I owe you much."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Thank you for the oil, man."

Castiel nodded, hesitated, then said, "Would it be all right if I returned tomorrow?" 

Dean stared at him for a minute, then grinned again. "You plan on stealing anything?"

Castiel blinked. "Not particularly, no." 

"Well then," Dean said, placing the rod in a bucket of water and making it hiss, "that should be fine."

Castiel felt himself smiling. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, waving an airy hand, "see you tomorrow, Cas." 

xxx

"Wow," Meg said, wiping down Castiel's desk with a damp rag. "This Winchester blacksmith apprentice man is actually turning you into a semi-sociable creature. Next thing you know you'll be heading down to the tourneys and crowning victors and all that."

"No," Castiel said firmly. "Definitely not."

Meg shrugged, bending over the desk in a decidedly unnecessary way in an attempt to clean out the corners. "That was humour, my lord. Remember?"

She winked at him and slithered back down the desk. 

"All the same," she said. "I get it, you want to go back and flirt with the blacksmith guy, but-"

"I do not-" Castiel began indignantly, but Meg's eyes flashed and he shut up.

"But," she repeated, "you're going to have to ease up on the oil donations. I'm taking too much at a time, and you give it away too fast. I'm going to take another full bag tomorrow, but you're going to make it last the week. Got it?"

Castiel nodded, then said, "I'm not... 'flirting' with Dean. He is assisting me."

Meg gave him a skeptical look. "Yeah, okay."

She put down the rag and moved to stand beside him at the window. There were more lights now, spreading out to encompass more of the village.

"You know," she said, "I've never been the sap you are, Your Highness, but I suppose the lights are kind of pretty." 

Castiel nodded. 

"Your lady sister said they meant something to you," Meg said. "Do they?"

He nodded again. Meg looked at him, then back down to the lights. 

"You would make a shit king," she said. "You're too sentimental."

"I agree," he said, and she started to laugh. 

xxx

It was drizzling the next day when Castiel set out, and by the time he reached the forge, it was a full-blown storm.

"You look like a drowned rat," Dean said, by way of greeting. "Sit down by the fire, I'm getting cold looking at you."

Castiel did as he was told, hugging his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry for intruding. When I left home, I didn't suspect the rain would worsen so."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said. "But before you go all crazy oil-seller on me, I wouldn't suggest going back out there until the storm ends. You'll catch fever and probably die."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "So quickly?"

"Nah," Dean said. "More slow and painful. Seriously, though, stick around here a while. Bobby won't mind."

"Don't you go putting words in my mouth, boy," comes a grunt from another fireplace across the room. Dean rolled his eyes. "He can't steal anything if he doesn't leave the forge, Bobby. Cool off."

Bobby grunted and made annoyed sounds in reply, but none that sounded like he actually objected to Castiel remaining in the forge, so he just hugged his knees closer and watched Dean pounding at a glowing sword.

Dean at work was a sight to appreciate, all slick with sweat and prominent muscles and concentration. He made frustrated sounds occasionally, but hummed in approval more often, and he would often look up to see Castiel watching him, only to blink and return to his work. 

Castiel thought, idly, that if Meg were here and had her way (as Meg often did), that she would have had Dean of Winchester thrice over already, and even Anna, whose taste in men was strange, unpredictable, and often completely absent, wouldn't mind him either.

Eventually Dean stopped and sat down beside him, running a towel over his face. "I'm guessing you've never seen smithing done before."

"No," Castiel said honestly, choosing to ignore the teasing lilt to Dean's voice. "It's fascinating work. I'm very impressed."

Dean looked at him sideways. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "The amount of focus and effort that goes into your work is amazing. I can't imagine spending as much time perfecting a singular weapon as you do."

Dean blinked at him, then gave a sort of half-grin and turned away from him. "I guess when you put it that way it does sound impressive."

"Do you not enjoy blacksmithing?" Castiel asked, turning towards him. 

Dean gave Bobby a wary look, but he was preoccupied with a breastplate and didn't notice. Dean moved in closer.

"Nah," he whispered. "Not really. I mean, it's a fine job and everything and Bobby's awesome, but it's not how I want to spend my life, you know?" 

"I understand," Castiel said. "What would you do, then?"

Dean blinked, as if he had suddenly forgotten who he was talking to, and then turned back to the fire. "I don't know."

He was lying, but Castiel didn't mind. He would be a hypocrite to say that Dean of Winchester should let loose all his secrets to a man he had known three days. 

"You would be a great blacksmith, though," he said instead. "If you so chose. You already are."

Dean looked back at him. He opened his mouth as though to say something condescending, then changed his mind and faced the fire again. "Thank you."  
Castiel nodded and turned back to the fire as well.

"What would you do?" Dean said. "I mean, what do you wish to be?"

"I don't know either," Castiel said, but he was telling the truth; if offered the choice, he had no idea what he wished for. All he had known was the reality of being a prince but never a king, an heir but never the heir. "In honesty, I haven't thought much of it." 

Dean nodded and looked like he was about to say something, but then a voice came from the door. 

"Dean!" 

Both Dean and Castiel looked up. A skinny boy, probably still in the early teenage years, had run into the forge. 

"Dean, is Bobby here, I need to- oh." 

His eyes fell on Castiel, and he stopped talking. Castiel looked at him. 

He was shorter than Dean by a few inches, with brown hair, plastered all over his forehead and cheeks with the rain, and a sweet face. His clothes were that of a poor man, and soaked through, but they were in considerably better shape than Dean's, and Castiel knew right away that the boy must be Dean's brother.

"Hey, it's okay," Dean said, standing up and moving so the boy could join them. "Sammy, this is Cas. Cas, this is my kid brother Sam."

"Hello," Sam said shyly. 

"Hello, Sam," Castiel said, bowing his head to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too," said Sam, and with another look at Dean, sat down between them, turning his body in towards the body and shivering. 

"Sam, I told you not to go out in the rain," Dean said, marking his tone as annoyed, but there was an undercurrent of worry beneath that did not escape anyone's notice. "You're going to get sick."

"I'm fine," Sam said. "I needed to ask Bobby about some runes I found- I found them on the wall of the hut and I thought I'd seen them before."

He pulled a damp piece of paper from his shirt and unfolds it to show Dean. Castiel looked on over his shoulder. There was a crude sketch of two runes on the paper, slightly smudged by the rainwater. 

"I dunno, Sam," Dean said, after a moment. "I can't translate runes for shit. And Bobby's in the middle of making a new shield for Sir Carver, so you'll have to wait-"

"If I may," Castiel said, taking the sheet gently from Sam, who looked up at him in surprise. He traced the first sigil with one finger. "I recognize this. These runes are Enochian. It is the ancient tongue of this land, and often invoked in situations involving religion or artistic embellishments."

Sam's eyes had gone wide, and he slid closer to Castiel. "Can you read them?"

"I- yes," Castiel said. "This first one- roughly translated, it means strength. Have you seen it before, Dean?" 

Dean, giving Castiel and then the paper furtive looks, leaned down and squinted. "Um. Oh- yeah. It does look familiar, now that you mention it."

Castiel nodded. "It is often carved into swords or shields as a means of blessing," he said. "I'm sure Bobby Singer has done so himself. And this one- if I am not wrong, this is a protection sigil against evil. You say you found it carved in the wall of your home?"

Sam nodded, eyes bright.

"Likely a superstition," Castiel said. "For keeping out bad spirits." He handed the paper back to Sam. "I hope that was helpful."

"That's incredible!" Sam said, clutching the paper, his face lit up. "Are you a scholar, Cas?" 

"Oh, no," Castiel said, his mind working rapidly. "My family- they taught me how to read the language. I come from a farther village. More Enochian texts can be found there."

Sam nodded, more slowly this time. He looked between a bewildered-looking Dean and Castiel again. "Thanks a lot, Cas. Well, I'm gonna head home, in that case. Tell Bobby I said hello, Dean."

"Wait a second," Dean said, and he disappeared into the darkness for a moment and returned with a thick cloak. "Wear this. Don't argue. It'd be pathetic to be the brother of a kid who died of a storm cold."

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Okay. See you when you get home, Dean."  
He gave Dean a quick, one-armed hug, and then he was gone.

"Your brother is very engaging," Castiel said. "And he seems very intelligent."

"Yeah, well," Dean said, pulling a misshapen sword from a pile and laying it in the fire. "When the hell did you learn to speak Enochian?" 

"My father taught me," Castiel said, which was not a lie. "It's a fascinating language, very complex."

People were beginning to filter slowly into the forge, damp but not drenched, and Castiel looked out the open entrance. The storm was letting up.

"Huh," Dean said, pulling the sword out of the fire again and turning to the anvil. As he did, Castiel slipped an oil canister into the basket of a passing pair of women. "Cool."

And he started pounding again. Castiel returned to watching him, occasionally pausing to sneak oil into more patrons' bags. 

After the rain had slowed to a halt and the sky began to darken, Castiel looped his bag over his shoulder again and made to slip quietly out the door. As he stood up, Dean looked over at him, eyes and cheekbones dusted over with light from the fire. 

"You heading out, Cas?"

"Yes, I think I ought to," Castiel said. "Thank you for allowing me to stay."

"Hey, no problem. Will you be back again tomorrow?" 

"Yes, I-" He shifted, and he could feel his almost-full bag bump against his waist. "Actually," he said, changing course, "would it be all right if I stayed again?"

Dean blinked at him, then grinned. "Sure. As long as you don't steal anything."

"I swear I will not," Castiel said solemnly. "Thank you, Dean. I will see you tomorrow."

"Sure," Dean chuckled, turning back to a red-hot knife. "See you tomorrow, Cas." 

xxx

"I am surprised at you, Castiel," Anna murmured into a spoonful of soup at dinner that night, underneath the chatter of a long table of royal siblings. "You will remain in the forge?"

Castiel nodded, biting into a steak-stuffed roll. "Meg requested for me to distribute less oil per day," he said. "And it is easier to remain inconspicuous in the forge."

"And you like this blacksmith fellow," Anna said, looking over at him. "Yes?"

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Samandriel, who sat to his left. "Castiel, are you unwell? You are very flushed." 

"Mm," Gabriel said across from them, working the words through a mouthful of food. He swallowed and said, "If you ask me, he finally got around to laying with that maid of his."

Samandriel immediately went red and looked down to his plate, and Anna snapped, "Gabriel! Don't be crass."

"Look, dearest lady sister, protecting your baby brother's virtue isn't-"

"Gabriel! Anna!" Michael shouted down from the head of the table. "Manners, please." 

Gabriel made a rude gesture at him when he turned away, but then returned to his food. Anna smiled a little at a still faintly blushing Samandriel, and turned back to Castiel.

"You do what you think is right, brother," she said. "But do not forget what it is you have set out to do."

"I haven't forgotten," Castiel said, mustering a little indignation for her sake. She patted his arm.

"I know you haven't," she said. "But you must also remember that the blacksmith boy does not know who you really are, so any relationship with him will be a temporary one."

"I don't-" Castiel began, then looked down at his plate. "I know."

Anna looked unconvinced. "Castiel, I speak from experience," she said. "There were people I grew attached to down in the village, people I have not seen in years because of our lord brothers' insistence I remain in the castle. While I do not regret caring for them, I wish I had the foresight to spare myself-"

"I know, Anna," Castiel repeated. 

Anna stared at him for a long time, then spooned out another mouthful of soup and blew on it. "Good." 

xxx

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, as Castiel perched in his usual place by the hearth. "Do me a favor?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "What is it you need?" 

Dean put a hand inside his tough apron and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He handed it to Castiel, who unfolded it to find a smattering of organized if crudely scrawled Enochian runes.

"Wondered if you could translate this for me," Dean said, almost shyly. "Sam was going nuts yesterday, he was so thrilled I knew someone who could read Enochian, you have no idea. He found a bunch of stuff he asked me to ask you to translate, and- well, obviously, you don't have to and I don't know how well you speak the damn language, or read it or whatever, actually, so if you can't-"

"I would be happy to translate this," Castiel said, holding out a hand. "Do you have a quill?"

Dean's face broke out in a grin, and he passed Castiel a ruffled quill and an inkwell. "Thanks, Cas. Sam'll be really excited."

He moved to the anvil to begin work, and Castiel began to scratch translations next to the runes, squinting at them in the firelight.

"Tell me about your brother," Castiel said, turning the paper sideways. Dean, from where he was hammering at the anvil, smiled brightly and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Oh, man," he said. "Sammy. Well, he's still young. Only- huh. I guess he'd be four-and-ten now. Anyway, he's really smart. Not so much cut out for blacksmithing yet, because he's so skinny, but Bobby likes him all right. He has more of our mom's face than I do, but he was just a baby when- when she died. I've been looking out for him since then."

Castiel nodded, smiling softly. "You love your brother very much."

Dean paused in the swing of the hammer, then made a small sound of assent. "Yeah."  
He made a final crash against the metal, then sat down next to Castiel, took a cloth and ran it over his face. 

"What about you?" he said. "You got any siblings, Cas?"

Castiel gave a dry huff of a laugh. "Indeed."

Dean looked up a little, mouth open as he rubbed the cloth against his forehead. "That bad?"

"I have many siblings," Castiel said ruefully. "And they are not all to me as Sam is to you. I am among the youngest, and most of them-"

He let out a long sigh. "They are not bad people at heart," he said. "But they have greater concerns than I." 

"Well, that's stupid," Dean said bluntly. "Family should come first."

Castiel smiled. "I would be a hypocrite to say I agree," he said. "I may criticize them, but they are not my greatest concern either. So perhaps it is better."

Dean contemplated this for a moment, then nudged him. "There's gotta be some you like," he says. "They're family. And what about parents?" 

"There is my sister," Castiel said. "She is... somewhat eccentric, but she is my closest friend and has been kind to me when the others may not have been. She would make-" He caught himself before 'a good queen' could slip out. "She would be better in my brother's position than he may be, but I don't believe she has much interest in it. There is a younger brother who is very tender-hearted. Older brothers who are- troublesome, but they do care for me, and I for them. And as for my parents..."

He paused, then said, carefully, "I never had a mother."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, dutifully. "I know it doesn't help."

Castiel laughed. "Thank you anyway," he said. "And my father is almost always travelling, away on business. I haven't seen him in years. He was a good father, but now he's just... gone."

"But you've still got a dad," Dean said. "That's got to mean something, right?"

"I have many fond memories of my father," Castiel said. "He is a great man, and a loving one. That is more than others may have."

Dean nodded, but his face had gone distant, and Castiel knew the discussion was near over. He began to scratch Sam's paper again.

"My parents are gone," Dean said suddenly. "Both of them. It's just me and Sammy left."

Castiel looked up and into his eyes. "I'm very sorry, Dean," he said. "It may not help, but I do mean it."

Dean made a strange laugh and stood up again. "Thanks, Cas."

He went back to the anvil, and they did not speak again for a while. Castiel only looked up occasionally to sneak oil into bags, but whenever he did, he always felt Dean's eyes slide off the back of his neck. 

Towards the end of the day, Sam came into the forge and made a beeline for Castiel, plopping down next to him and making him jump.

"Hi, Cas!" he said cheerfully. "Did Dean give you the runes I drew?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "They were recreated nicely, well done."

Sam beamed, and Dean grinned a little from where he was welding a helmet. Sam listened attentively while Castiel explained the runes to him, his eyes bright.

"That's amazing!" he said, when Castiel had finished. "Wow, Cas. I wish I could read Enochian."

"You can still learn," Castiel said. "It is a complex language, but learning the basics is simple enough. If you like, I could get you a book-"

Sam's face split into a wide smile. "Really?"

"Of course," Castiel said, and Sam bounced slightly in his seat, looking delighted, and turned to Dean. "Dean! Did you hear that?"

"Was it the sound of you becoming more of a smartass by the minute?" Dean said without looking up. "Because I think I might have."

"Jerk," Sam said, but he was still grinning. "Anyway, I'm going to head home. Bye, Cas. Thanks a lot!"

As he was leaving, Castiel slipped an oil canister into his little bag. Just in case. 

He stood up after Sam had gone. "I'd better go as well," he said. "Thank you, Dean, for allowing me to stay. And you, Smith Singer," he called across the room to Bobby Singer, who grunted in what seemed to be an approving way. 

"Hey, no problem," Dean said. "See you tomorrow, Cas. And hey-"

Castiel looked over, and Dean smiled at him. "Thanks."

Castiel gave him a quick smile and nodded, then left. 

xxx

Meg was cross with him when he returned home. 

"You're intentionally getting more disgusting just to tax me," she said, soaking his peasant clothes in the washbin and making a face at the murky water. "What is this?"

"Coal," Castiel said. "And I am not."

Meg rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I like you," she said. "Actually, you're lucky that without this job I would probably have to prostitute myself. I don't actually like you."

"Of course not," Castiel said mildly, and Meg grinned. 

xxx

After two weeks, Bobby Singer directly confronted Castiel. 

Sam was at his side by the fire, copying runes onto a sketchbook eagerly, using a slightly battered text as a reference, and Castiel was watching him over his shoulder, occasionally pointing out errors or looking up to slip oil into a distracted patron's bag. Bobby passed by to speak to a customer, and then, glancing at Castiel, turned and faced him. 

Both Sam and Castiel looked up, and even Dean paused in his hammering of a metal sheet to watch. 

"You know," Bobby said, with a tone of finality, "if yer gonna bum around here all day, you might as well make yerself useful."

And he handed Castiel a strange, clothed instrument with handles at two ends. Castiel stared at it. "I don't-"

"Autumn's setting in, boy," Bobby said. "You won't be gettin' to enjoy that fire as much as y'are if it ain't lit and kept."

"I-" Castiel said, but Bobby had gone again. He gave Dean a desperate look, but he had turned away, chuckling, and that left him only with Sam. 

"I don't know what this is," he said.

Sam's eyes went wide. "You've never tended a fire before?" 

Castiel shook his head miserably.

"How is that even possible," Dean called, evening out the edges of the sheet. 

"It's very warm where I come from!" Castiel called back, feeling a flush against the back of his neck.

"Where you come from," Sam said. "Right. Okay, Cas, this is called a bellows. You use it to tend the fire and make sure it doesn't go out. See?" 

He took the instrument from Castiel and turned the pointy end towards the fire, pumping the hands together. The fire grew larger as the air was pushed against it.

"Oh," Castiel said. "I see."

Sam gave it back to him. "You don't need to do it too often," he said. "Just when the fire starts getting low. Throw logs on it, and maybe clean the ashes away. Bobby likes you 'cause you're quiet, so if you do this for him he'll probably never have a problem with you."

"And he'd stop thinking you're going to rob us blind too," Dean said. "Word of advice? Do what he says." 

"All right," Castiel said. "I think I can do that."

Sam smiled at him. "Great." 

Later, Castiel would not tell Meg or Anna about this development, because Anna would bite her lip and remind him that it was temporary, and Meg would scoff that he was sentimental. So he let himself keep the feeling of being a part of something, and said nothing.

The lights beneath the castle continued to glow brighter.

xxx

Summer eased into fall, and not much changed, except for the brightly coloured leaves that would blow through the floor of the forge, and that Castiel had to return to the castle a little earlier each day so the sun wouldn't set on him. 

"So did you sell all your oil, man?" Dean asked him, as Castiel pumped the handles of the bellows. "Since you hang around here all day now?"

Castiel shifted slightly, felt the canisters bump against his side, and bit his lip. "Most of it," he said. "My family works at selling the rest. I come here to preoccupy myself while they are out."

"Got it," Dean said. "Careful, you're gonna burn yourself."

"And you," Castiel said mildly, and Dean hissed, bringing his hand away from the still-glowing shield he had been hammering at. Dean looked at him sideways. "You're an asshole." 

Castiel, who had never been addressed so bluntly, beamed. Dean blinked at him, then gave him a wary grin. "That wasn't a compliment."

"I know," Castiel said. "I'm very insulted. Is your hand all right?"

"Oh, yeah, it's fine," Dean said. "I've had much worse, believe me. So you're just hanging around here until your family's done selling oil?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "And then I suspect we will return home."

Dean looked up. "You're going to leave?"

"Not for a while now," Castiel said, "but yes."

"Ah," Dean said, and didn't speak to Castiel again for the rest of the day, even when Bobby came over to reprimand the both of them for slacking off.

xxx

Oil prices began to go down. Castiel didn't have to give away as much anymore. 

"Hey, can you help me with this?" Dean said. "Hold this up- yeah, like that."

Castiel balanced a heavy clump of metal against his side. "Like this?"

"Yeah, can you just hold it for a minute?"

Dean worked in a circle around the block, hammering and shaving and humming to himself. Eventually he reached where Castiel was holding it up.

"Should I move?" Castiel asked, gritting his teeth as he prepared to shift.

"No, nope, stay where you are, I'll just-"

Dean moved in close next to him, hands working around and below Castiel, careful so they didn't strike him. Castiel held his breath.

"Easy," Dean murmured. "I'm not gonna hit you."

"I know," Castiel said. He kept holding his breath.

"All right, that's good. You can let go."

Castiel let go of the metal, and it teetered to a slightly wobbly standstill. Dean grinned at him. "Thanks, Cas."

He had left a smudge of soot on Castiel's pants that wouldn't come out, not later when Meg scrubbed and scrubbed and cursed at it, and another on his nose that made Bobby chuckle.

xxx

Sam began to write in full sentences in Enochian, and would visit the forge daily to have Castiel check them over. He would remind Castiel to tend the fire and help Dean put tools and garbage away.

Later, a stern-faced woman called Jody would come in to talk to Bobby. She went up to talk briefly with Dean, and noticed Castiel and Sam by the fire. "Your brothers, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Well, that's my brother Sam, and that's my friend Cas."

Meg yelled at Castiel later that night for smiling abnormally, and Anna had looked delighted.

xxx

"You wanna get paid for yer work, boy?" Bobby had asked Castiel once, while he and Dean had been pulling a helmet from the hearth. He and Dean had both looked up. "Figured I'd ask. You certainly do as much as this here bastard."

Dean scowled good-naturedly at Bobby, and Castiel had smiled and shaken his head. "I don't need your money, Smith Singer," he said. "Thank you for allowing me to stay in your forge all day."

That was the last that was spoken on the subject. 

xxx

"Cas," Dean said, sitting down by the fire as Castiel stoked at it. "Do you remember when you asked me what I'd like to be?"

"Of course," Castiel said. "Why?"

"Well," Dean said, shifting a little. "There is something. But it's kinda-"

"What is it?" Castiel said, turning away from the fire. "Tell me."

Dean mumbled something.

"What?"

"A knight," Dean said, louder. "I'd like to be a knight. I mean, obviously I have no training, and I'm not a noble, and there haven't been any recruitment parties in months, but-" 

"I think you'd make a brilliant knight," Castiel said solemnly.

Dean looked at him, surprised. "Yeah?"

"You're very strong," Castiel said. "And likeable. You'd certainly be able to hold your own in battles and tourneys alike. You're compassionate and already have the inclination to protect. And no nobleman's son has ever wielded or mastered as many weapons or as much armour as you have. I have never met a man who would be as good a knight as you could be." 

Dean blinked at him, then looked away. His cheeks were flushed, but whether it was from emotion or the heat of the fire, Castiel couldn't tell. 

"Lord Christ, Cas," he said. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

Castiel shrugged. "Dean," he said. "When we met, you scared off a group of three boys who were attacking me, a person you owed nothing to and knew nothing about. There is a kindness and strength in you that has always been obvious to me, and would be just as obvious to anyone assessing your aptitude. Besides, the kingdom has lost several knights in the past year. There may be a recruitment party come spring."

Dean was still staring at the fire. "You think?"

"I cannot be sure," Castiel said. "But it is possible." 

Dean looked directly at him, with a look in his eyes Castiel could not identify, and suddenly Castiel felt hot and strange.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, quietly, and for a moment his face was closer than it had been before, and then he stood up again and went back to work. 

xxx

"Dean wishes to become a knight," Castiel told Anna. 

They were in the Great Hall, several members of the royal family scattered throughout the room. Samandriel sat a few feet away, playing a clapping game with a smaller sibling, and Gabriel and Balthazar were by the fire, dipping their fingers in the ash and tracing something on the wall. Anna was sewing.

"Does he?" she said. 

"Will there be a recruitment party come spring?" he asked. "Has Michael said anything?"  
"I do not know," Anna said. "It's not unlikely. Our skirmish with Lord Crowley last winter did not do our numbers good." 

She pulled at a thread that would not break, looked around the room, then snapped it with her teeth. "Perhaps you ought to ask him."

"Sister," Castiel said, "no. I shouldn't interfere with the forge any more than I already am. If Dean were to discover-"

He fell silent. Anna looked up at him. "The blacksmith boy cares for you," she said.  
"He's my friend," Castiel said miserably. 

"And I know that you care for him a very great deal," Anna said. "Don't look at me like that, it's obvious. I haven't seen you this taken with anyone since- I would say with your maid, but you weren't even this fascinated with her."

"Anna," Castiel said. "If Michael had never caught you sneaking out of the castle, what would you have done?"

Anna went back to her sewing. "I would have run away," she said. "So far away they could never have found me and brought me back, and started a new life. Or so I like to think."

"I couldn't do that," Castiel said. "It would be too dangerous for Dean and his brother."

"I didn't know you were seeking advice," Anna said. "Here, Castiel. What do you think?"  
She presented him with her embroidery. It was a little blue bird in mid-flight, with tiny black eyes. 

"It's lovely," Castiel said. "What is it for?"

Anna tilted her head at it. "It shall be a throw pillow," she said decidedly. "Would you like it?" 

"I would be honored," Castiel said. 

xxx

Winter blew in with the force and speed of ten thousand icy arrows, and it was the first time Castiel had ever left the castle in the chill. 

"Virgin Mother," Dean said, pulling off his apron and flopping down at Castiel's side by the fire. "I cannot wait to go home."

"It's far warmer here than it is where I live," Castiel said. "I would much rather stay here."

Dean grinned up at him, sweat from work and the fire curling the edges of his hair. "Yeah, well, your job is literally to sit next to the fire all day. You don't get to complain." 

"Very well," Castiel said. "You may complain as much as you wish. I will just sit here quietly."

Dean laughed. "This you getting a sense of humor, Cas? That's kind of weird."

"My apologies," Castiel said, throwing another log into the fire.

Dean looked idly out the open doors of the forge, then sat up. "Hey, look," he said, nudging Castiel. "It's snowing." 

Castiel looked out the door. Indeed, tiny flakes had begun to fall in a slow, graceful descent to the ground. 

"Oh," he said. Then, after a moment, he smiled. "It's very pretty." 

"Don't turn into a girl on me here," Dean said lazily, leaning back towards the fire again. "It looks nice now, but if it turns any nastier it'll be a huge pain to walk home in."

"Oh," Castiel said. "I suppose it will, won't it."

It would be difficult to sneak back into the castle with snowflakes clinging to him, and it would be very cold, cold enough to get sick. Dean looked over at him, and must have seen something in his face, because he suddenly said, "You don't live nearby, do you, Cas?" 

"No," Cas admitted. "It will be painful to walk back, as you said."

"Well, if you want," Dean said, "you could sleep over in the hut with me and Sammy. At least till the snow stops." 

Cas looked over. "I couldn't-"

"Stop saying you're intruding, it's annoying," Dean said. "And we don't live more than a stone's throw from the forge. Come on."

"I can't," Castiel said. "My family-"

"They'll understand. It's cold out there, and you can head back in the morning-"

"My family will worry," Castiel said, "they could come out looking for me, I don't want you to get into trouble."

Dean was sitting up now, his face level with Castiel's. "Cas," he said, and it didn't feel like he was asking Castiel to stay out of the snow, not anymore, and it made Castiel itch with something he couldn't label. "You can stay with me and my brother. Just for a little bit."

Castiel wanted to, more than made sense, but he also knew he couldn't, and so he kept his lips pressed together. "I wish I could, Dean," he said. "But I-"

Dean was studying his face. "How come you're always like this?" he said, so softly Castiel almost didn't hear him. "How come you never stay?"

That hurt, unexpectedly. "I'm sorry," Castiel whispered. "I wish-"

"Hey, you two," came Bobby's voice from the other end of the forge, and then the man followed it, running a cloth over his face. "We're closin' up shop early. Nobody'll be headin' out now."

"Ugh, yes," Dean groaned, sitting up and pulling a cloak over his shoulders. "Come on, Cas, let's get out of here." 

Castiel nodded, and gave a bow to Bobby. "Thank you, Smith Singer."

"Don't sweat it, boy," Bobby said, and in a display of uncharacteristic affection, ruffled Castiel's hair. "You keep out of the cold now."

Dean rolled his eyes and tugged Castiel out the door.

Castiel trudged along behind him for a few steps. "My home is the other way," he said, after a while. "Goodbye, Dean."

"Cas," Dean said, turning around. "Is there sometime going on with your family? Are they, like-" He broke off, gesturing with his hands. "Do they hurt you or something? Or, like, in trouble with the king? Because- don't laugh. You never stay. I don't know where you're from. You keep talking about how you have to leave, but it sure seems like you'd rather be here than there." 

Dean's face was serious, concerned, even with snow clinging to his hair and lashes, and his cheeks all rosy. 

"I would like that," Castiel said. "To stay here with you. But I can't. Thank you, Dean. I ought to return home." 

He turned to walk away.

"Wait- wait!" Dean said, grabbing his shoulder. "You didn't answer any-"

"My family is strict," Castiel said, "but we are not criminals. And you need not worry about me, Dean."

Dean regarded him for a minute, his lips pressed together, then unclipped his cloak and threw it around Castiel's shoulders. Castiel blinked at him, bewildered.

"I'm not far from home now," he said gruffly. "And you'll freeze. But you better bring it back."

"I- all right," Castiel said, gingerly fingering the fabric. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean nodded, and Castiel began to make his way back to the castle. 

"Cas!"

Castiel turned around. Dean still stood in the building snow. 

"You'll come back tomorrow, right?" Dean said. "To the forge."

Castiel smiled. "Unless things go terribly awry," he said. "Don't worry, Dean. Your cloak shall not fall to any harm."

Dean's laughter echoed behind him. 

xxx

Despite Dean's shoddy cloak, Castiel grew very ill. 

"You're a mess," Meg said unsympathetically, wringing out a warm cloth and laying it over his forehead. "Virgin Mary."

Castiel moaned at her from under the bedsheets. 

"It'll probably be a week or two until you can return to the blacksmith's embrace, lover boy," she said. "Until then, just sleep. You've a fever like you wouldn't believe, and I don't even know if you can hear me right now."

Castiel made a noise that could have indicated assent or delirium. 

"Yeah, okay. Sleep, my lord. You'll feel better when you wake."

Meg was a pathological liar.

xxx

Castiel slept and woke in unpredictable patterns, hot and cold flashes making their way in and out of consciousness. 

Sometimes he dreamed, often about his siblings- Anna as a little girl falling from a tree in the courtyard; holding a baby Samandriel in his chubby arms; Gabriel holding Balthazar by his ankles out a window; Michael and Zachariah arguing over a book. There was one dream about his father, over and over, where his face was so high up Castiel could barely see him. Do you see those little lights down there, Castiel?

He dreamed of Dean as well, laughing in the forge, lying beside Castiel in the snow, biting his lip and leaning very close, naked and writhing between bedsheets-

Castiel never remembered his dreams.

People would flit in and out of his room- Meg, Anna, maids and servants and doctors, Samandriel, Gabriel and Balthazar, Zachariah with a worrying expression. Michael came in just once that Castiel saw, and smoothed his hair back, and told him to heal quickly. Or maybe that was a dream. 

Dean did not come, and Castiel wished he would, even though he knew it was better that he didn't. 

xxx

It was twelve days until Castiel was fully awake and almost fully healed. The royal family appeared greatly relieved. 

"You gave us quite the scare, Cassie!" Balthazar said, embracing him tightly enough to make something crack and Castiel wince. "Don't know what we'd do without you, thinking about it."

"Probably have a lot less fun," Gabriel said. 

"I am relieved you are well, brother," Michael said warmly. "We were all very concerned for you. I am glad to see you are better."

"Thank you," Castiel said, his voice raspy. "I am glad to be better. Thank you all for your care." 

Anna embraced him, and said in his ear, "Don't you dare return to the village till the morrow, brother. You are not yet fully recovered."

Castiel hesitated. "Anna-"

"A cloak is not worth your health," she whispered. "You are strong of spirit, Castiel, but your body does not quite meet the standard. The morrow. I beg of you."

Castiel nodded. 

xxx

So Castiel returned the next day. 

The snow had become a grey slush, and he trucked through it towards the forge, Dean's cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

When he came near, he heard a voice cry out, "Cas!" and a brown-haired blur flew out of the forge and nearly knocked him over, Sam's arms wrapping around his neck. 

"We were so worried about you!" Sam said, squeezing him tight. "Are you okay?"

Castiel tentatively wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. "I apologize for worrying you," he said. "I was very ill for a while, but I'm much better now."

Sam released him, beaming. "Dean was worried sick," he said. "He'll be relieved. And Bobby will be too, he's been all grumpy with you gone. C'mon."

And he tugged Castiel into the forge, Castiel stumbling behind him.

"Dean! Bobby!" he shouted into the smokiness of the forge. "Cas is back!" 

Bobby emerged from behind an anvil, his eyebrows bunched together. "And where've you been, ya little vagrant?" 

"Cas!"

Dean stumbled out into view, all black with soot and coal and staring at Cas. He looked openly shocked for a minute, then his face grew strangely hard. "Where've you been?" 

"I was very ill," Cas repeated, unclipping Dean's cloak and handing it to him. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to return this till now. I wasn't-"

"Couldn't have sent someone?" Dean said, his eyes stormy. "Couldn't have let us know you were fine? Christ, Cas, we were fucking terrified-"

Bobby cuffed Dean on the side of the head. "Watch yer mouth in my store, boy," he said. "Leave Cas alone, looks like he's had a rough enough time as is." 

He gave Castiel a once-over. "Still up for tending the fire, boy, or you heading home?"  
"No, I'll stay," Castiel said. "If that's all right." 

Bobby nodded and wandered off, leaving Dean, Sam, and Cas together. Dean looked at Cas again, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Jerk," he muttered. "Don't let it bother you, Cas. He was really worried about you. I don't think he knows what to do with himself now."

He sat down next to the fire, and Castiel joined him. 

"I wish I could have sent word," Castiel said. "I didn't mean to worry you, truly. I just- wasn't very lucid most of the time."

Sam nodded sympathetically. "I thought you were probably sick," he said. "Or someone in your family was. Dean thought maybe you had left, but I didn't think you would leave without saying goodbye."

"I wouldn't," Castiel said, and threw a log on the fire. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Don't apologize, it's fine," Sam said. "Everyone gets sick. When I was little I got sick all the time. Dean always stayed home to take care of me. Just because he's immune doesn't mean he doesn't understand."

Castiel nodded, and moved closer to the fire. Sam looked at him, then stood up. "I'm going to go talk to Dean," he said, and left.

Castiel had forgot to bring oil, and just watched people pass by silently. 

A little while later, Sam slipped out the forge door, and Dean emerged from the shadows and sat down next to Castiel. He rubbed at his face with a cloth, and they were silent for a while.

"I'm sorry," Dean said. "That wasn't cool of me."

"It's all right," Castiel said. "It wasn't very cool of me either."

Dean looked at him, looking surprised and amused. "You don't need to adjust your fancy vocabulary just for me, Cas. Anyway, Sam and Bobby have both already given me hell, so don't worry."

Castiel frowned. "They shouldn't have," he said. "I understand why you were upset. I'm sorry that I didn't return your cloak-"

"It's not just about the cloak," Dean said. "I was worried about you, Cas. The way you left when I last saw you- well, it kinda seemed like you were leaving."

"I wouldn't leave like that," Castiel said quietly. "Not without saying goodbye."

"Yeah, Sam said so too," Dean said. "All the same. You were really sick, huh?"

"Yes," Castiel said.

"On a scale from one to ten, with one having the sniffles and ten being a hallucinatory, dying lump."

"Nine and a half," Castiel said. 

Dean blew out a breath. "That bad?"

"My family took good care of me," he said. "Normally there is not much illness in our family, so my condition was speedily treated and remedied. I missed you greatly."

"Yeah?"

Castiel nodded. Dean grinned and clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it, man," he said. "We missed you too." 

xxx

"There will be an oil shipment coming in the spring," Michael announced to the table at large one night. The chatter fell silent. 

"From whom?" Anna asked, her gaze flicking quickly to Castiel, then back to Michael. "Lord Crowley?"

"No, of course not," Michael said. "We are still not on good terms. From the east, Lord Azrael's domain."

"Well, that's good news," Samandriel said. "The shortage will finally be over."

"Yeah, I don't buy that whole shortage bullshit," Gabriel said. "The lights look fine to me."

Castiel looked down at his plate. 

"No foul language at the table, Gabriel!" Michael snapped. "Anyway, just thought everyone ought to know. I know that some had been particularly concerned."

Balthazar winked at Castiel, who rolled his eyes. Anna looked worriedly at Castiel, but said nothing.

xxx

"I will have to return home in the spring, Dean," Castiel said.

Dean hit himself in the small of the hand with his hammer and cursed. "What?"

"The kingdom will have an oil import in then," Castiel said. "My family's will no longer be needed. We can return home."

Dean pressed down on his hand, wincing. "You sure?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "It's best to tell you now, I thought."

"Yeah, but you'll be able to come back, right?" Dean said, returning to the hammer with a slight lag in his left hand.

"I doubt my family will return here again," Castiel said. "So likely not."

"Well, if you don't want to live with your family, then you can come live with Sammy and me if you want to," Dean said. "You can do whatever you want."

Castiel shook his head. "I wish that were true," he murmured. "But Dean, one day soon I will have to leave, and I likely won't be able to return, and that is all there is of the matter."

Dean stopped again, then put down the hammer and sat down next to him. "Do you want to stay here?" he asked softly, over the crackling of the fire. "In the village."

Castiel bit the underside of his lip. "It doesn't-" he began, but Dean cut him off. "It does matter, so don't say it doesn't. What do you want?"

"This," Castiel said, quietly, and when Dean blinked uncomprehendingly, he said, louder, "I wish I could stay here. With you. But I can't, Dean. It's not that simple. I have obligations."

"Well, fuck that," Dean said. "It's your life, Cas, you should do whatever you want to do." 

Castiel laughed, bitterly. "That is a nice sentiment," he said. "But it is not true for most, and certainly not true for me."

"Why not?" Dean said. "You're an oil vendor, Cas, how tight a leash can you be on?"   
"You'd be surprised," Castiel said.

Dean was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "We could run away."  
Castiel looked up. "What?"

"You and me and Sam," Dean said. "We could get some money from Bobby, head to Lord Crowley's kingdom. I could get another job there, so could you. You could start over."

For a minute Castiel could almost see it, but then he pictured the manhunts that would be held to find the missing prince, and his stomach twisted. "I couldn't do that," he said. "Not to you and Sam, nor Bobby."

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean said, almost shouting. "What do you want?"

"I want a life here!" Castiel shouted. "What I have now! Without having to leave. But Dean, I can't have it. It's as simple as that."

"If you're gonna fight, take it outside," Bobby called. 

They were both on their feet, staring at each other; then Castiel slumped back. 

"I don't want to fight," he said. "I'm sorry, Dean, it's just-"

"Yeah," Dean said. "I get it."

Castiel didn't think he really did, because he turned away and went back to work without looking to Castiel again. 

xxx

"Did Dean tell you he wants to be a knight?"

Sam was teaching Castiel how to play a strange game with stones by the fire. It was lightly sprinkling an early-spring grey slush outside, and Dean was working alongside Bobby on the other side of the store. 

"Yes, he has," Castiel said. "I think he would be a wonderful knight."

Sam looked up, then smiled. He tossed a stone in the air, then caught it, looking disappointed. "You're supposed to try and catch it, Cas."  
"Oh," Castiel said. "Sorry."

"He's never told anyone that," Sam said. "Except me. But he's wanted to be one for as long as I can remember." 

He tossed the stone in the air again, and this time Castiel caught it. "Good! Now you can keep that one."

"It's not an unrealistic dream," Castiel said. "And I cannot imagine anyone more apt than Dean."

Sam gathered his collection of stones into a mound again. "Our dad was a knight," he said quietly. 

"Oh," Castiel said. 

"He died in a battle against King Lucifer," Sam said, his tone flat. "Years ago. Did Dean tell you?"

"No," Castiel said. "I knew your parents were gone, but-"

"Yeah," Sam said. 

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said. "Though I know it does not help."

Sam was silent, then nodded and tossed another rock in the air, catching it again a moment after it left his hand. 

"Dean would be a better knight than Dad, though," Sam said. "Better than anyone."

"I think so," Castiel said.

Sam met his eyes, then grinned, a bit ruefully. 

"I know you do," he said. 

xxx

Winter made its slow melt into springtime, and Dean grew antsier by the day.

"What's troubling you, Dean?" Castiel said, sitting cross-legged by the fire. He threw another log on the fire, and it erupted in sparks. "Is something wrong?"

Dean's hand brushed the white-hot of a dagger, and he hissed in pain. "Shit- no, Cas, nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?"

"That's the third time you've burned yourself today," Castiel said dryly. "And you keep looking out the door. Tell me the truth."

Dean made a face at him. "All right, smartass." He blew against the reddening back of his hand. "It's spring. Or nearly."

"Yes?" Castiel said. 

"Don't 'yes' me, asshole, I'm not done. Anyway, the thing is, spring's when the shitstorms are supposed to start, right?"

"I-" Castiel said. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Dean returned to the dagger. "Well," he said gruffly. "There may be recruitment parties, right?"

Castiel's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh! Yes. I'd forgotten." He offered a smile. "That would be good, wouldn't it?"

"Well, yeah," Dean acknowledged. "It's making me jittery as fuck, though. And they're not gonna want a knight who's incinerated his hands."

Castiel tsked. "You're fine," he said. "And overly dramatic."

Dean gave him a wry grin, which quickly faded. He looked down again. "And the oil import will be coming in," he said quietly. "Any day now, right?" 

"Oh," Castiel said. "Yes."

"So that's not so great," Dean said. "But you know."

Castiel looked at the fire, then stood up and laid his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean straightened, then after a moment, met his eyes.

"I am not yet gone," Castiel said. "And you should not let it distract you from any trials or reward that may come. Understand?"

Dean blinked at him. "No one might even come," he said. "Don't get your hopes up."

"And don't repress your own," Castiel said. "There is nothing wrong with optimism sometimes, Dean."

Dean stared at him, then grinned, a little hesitantly. "You're the strangest man I've ever met."

"And you are the most callous," Castiel said, sitting back down again.

"Yeah, yeah, you can throw your fancy words at me all day, man."

xxx

"I was thinking of sending a recruitment party into the village tomorrow," Michael said idly, sitting upon their throne and scribbling on some parchment. "To replenish our numbers. What do you all think?"

Zachariah, Samandriel, Castiel, and Anna were all littered throughout the throne room, and looked up when Michael spoke. Anna's elbow dug into Castiel's ribs, and he hissed in pain.

Zachariah's lip curled. "My lord," he said, "you have always had impeccable judgment, but... there is no one trained or particularly able in the villages. Perhaps it would be better to look elsewhere."

"Zachariah, your distaste for our people clouds your own judgment," Anna said. "There are plenty of able-bodied citizens in the village, and even more who are willing to fight. A recruitment party would do no harm."

"Do not fight, you two, I do not have the temperance for it," Michael said, in a voice that would have been a groan if it was allowed. 

"I think you ought to, my lord," Samandriel said. "Many of our most famous knights have come from the village. I believe they have proved their worth enough to look there for some numbers."

Michael nodded, then looked to Castiel. "And you, Castiel?"

Castiel jumped. "Er," he said. "I also think it a good idea."

The faintest pull of a smile tugged at Michael's lips. "It looks as though you have been outvoted, Zachariah," he said. "Very well. I shall send a party down tomorrow." 

Anna made a pleased sound and gave Castiel a pointed look, but Castiel ignored her. 

xxx

Dean was not in the forge the next day, and Sam stood in his place, looking smug.

"Hi, Cas," he said. "Guess what!"

"What," said Castiel.

"A recruitment party came!" Sam said, his face breaking into a huge smile. "Dean left with them. He's up at the castle demonstrating his aptitude right now."

"That's wonderful," Castiel said, with genuine enthusiasm- he had feared the recruitment party might not pass by the forge, or Dean might not have noticed them. "He must have been pleased."

"Oh yeah, he was thrilled," Sam said. "But trying to be masculine about it. This was the hard part anyway- once they test him, they'll let him in for sure. He just needed to be noticed."

"That is a weight off both your shoulders, then," Castiel said. "I'm pleased."

Sam rocked back on his heels. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. I am too." He grinned. "Dean'll be a great knight."

"He will," Castiel said. 

"Bobby!" Sam shouted. "Do you have any drinks for when Dean gets knighted?"

"You ain't weaselling any whiskey out of me, I still remember the day you were born and it sure wasn't that long ago," Bobby called back. Sam made a face.

"For Dean and Cas, Bobby. We should celebrate. Before the royal celebrations."

Castiel started. He had forgotten. The royals had a induction celebration in the castle for new knights. He wouldn't be able hide from Dean in the palace.

He would have to fake sickness.

"Cas?" Sam said. "You all right?"

"Oh," he said. "Just fine." 

"Bobby keeps whiskey in the back of the store," Sam whispered. "So Dean'll steal some anyway if he doesn't feel like sharing."

Castiel cracked a smile. "That's good to know."

xxx

"How were the recruits, my lord?" Anna asked Michael at dinner, taking a sip of wine. "Any ones you liked?"

Castiel kicked her under the table, and she winced and grinned at him.

"There were a few promising men among the numbers," Michael said. "Not as many as I would have liked, but more than was expected. They shall receive word of their admittance tomorrow." 

"That's good!" Samandriel said enthusiastically. "It will be nice to have new faces in the guard, should make the tourneys interesting."

"Might even lure Castiel down to the fields for once," Gabriel said. "How about it, brother?"

"I hate tourneys," Castiel muttered. 

Michael gave them disapproving looks. "Anyhow, tell the household servants to prepare for the induction celebrations," he said. "We shall hold them next week."

Anna blinked. "Oh," she whispered. "Castiel-"

"I will feign sickness," Castiel whispered back. "Michael pities me; he knows I hate crowds. He will not force me to attend."

"But-" Anna said, then bit her lip. It looked she was contemplating saying something more, but decided against it.

"A toast!" Samandriel said, raising his glass. "To the success of our lord brothers in finding new knights to defend the realm!"

The sound of clinking glasses filled the room. 

xxx

Crocuses were springing out in the weeds outside the forge, and Castiel had stopped to admire them when he heard shouting inside the forge. 

"Boy, if you knock over one more tray-"

"Lighten up, old man, we ought to be celebrating! Sam, you seen Cas?"

Castiel peeked in. "Dean?"

Dean was suddenly in front of him, face flushed, a broad grin on his face. "Cas!" he shouted, dragging Castiel into the forge. "Guess what?"

Castiel blinked. "What?"

"You're looking at the realm's newest knight!" Dean crowed. Behind him, Sam was beaming, leaning against the hearth, and Bobby was looking gruffly pleased. "I fucking nailed the initiation, and the High Prince was practically begging me to join-"

That was almost certainly untrue, but Castiel grinned all the same. "Dean, that's- that's fantastic. I'm very happy for you."

Dean grinned, and when Castiel reached out to clasp his hand, he wrapped Castiel in a hug, pounding him on the back. Then he released him and grabbed onto Sam, who yelped as Dean hoisted him onto his back and spun him around, Sam's arms around his neck and holding on for dear life. 

"Haven't seen him this happy in years," Bobby said to Castiel, both of them watching Sam shriek as Dean threw him over his shoulder. "Didn't know he wanted it this badly."

"He deserves it," Castiel said. "I cannot think of a better knight than Dean."

Bobby gave him an appraising look. "You're a good kid, Cas," he said. "Dean and Sam too."

The way he said it conveyed some sort of significance, and Castiel wondered, briefly, if Bobby had ever told anyone but Dean or Sam that. 

It should worry him, but instead a warm feeling coiled up in his stomach and stayed there, sated and happy. 

Sam, in the meantime, had been flipped upside down, his face growing red and hands waving furiously as Dean holds him up by his legs. 

"Dean, put me down!" he shouts. "Cas, help!"

"Cas cannot help you now," Dean said smugly. "Can't attack a knight of the realm, bitch."   
To emphasize this point, he bonked Sam's head against the forge floor. Sam yelped. "Dean!" 

This feels like home, Castiel realizes, and the thought elicits a sort of contented despair. 

xxx

It was not hard to fake illness for the induction parties. Meg just coughed a lot beforehand and then told everyone Castiel had caught her cold. 

Music swelled in the ballroom below. Meg sat cross-legged on Castiel's bed, playing a sort of solitary card game while Castiel watched.

"So your lovely blacksmith is downstairs, my lord?" she said idly, flipping over a card. "Enjoying his new status?"

"I suppose so," Castiel said. Anna's bluebird pillow sat underneath his forearm.  
Meg hummed. "I might sneak down there then," she said. "Take a look at this fellow. And smuggle some of the food."

"You can go if you want to," Castiel said. "There is no reason for you not to enjoy the festivities."

Meg gave him a sideways look. "You look enough like someone's kicked your puppy already," she said. "But you owe me. Usually I fetch myself very handsome men on nights like this."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said. "I don't know how to compensate you for that."

Meg hummed to herself. "I can think of a few ways."

She looked up, caught sight of his expression, and chuckled. "Oh, take a joke, Your Highness. I know full well you're saving your pretty self for Sir Blacksmith downstairs."

"Meg-"

"It's about time you learned to play cards, I think," Meg said. "Here, I'll teach you."

"I will wager you nothing," Castiel said warily. 

Meg grinned at him. "Come on, that's the fun bit. Your sister's gift necklace? She can't miss what she never had."

"Meg-"

"Or perhaps some of those lovely silk britches, I've a belt-"

"Meg-"

"Or perhaps your virginity? No?"

Castiel threw Anna's pillow at her head, and she ducked, laughing so hard he was sure the revelers downstairs would hear. 

xxx

"The food was great," Dean said.

Sam was sitting by the fire with Castiel, elbows propped on his knees, listening raptly. Castiel was half-listening, tending to the fire. 

"Sam, you wouldn't believe the kind of meat they have, and there's just so much of it- it was amazing. The royals, not so much."

Sam wrinkled his nose and grinned. Castiel didn't look up.

"I mean, some of 'em are like, young and good-looking and shit- High Prince Michael had all the ladies all in a flutter, and there was this completely gorgeous princess, I mean really- hey, Cas, you listening?"

"Yes," Castiel said distantly. "Boring royals. Beautiful princess. Go on."

Dean gave him a look, but continued on, "Anyway, yeah. But there was this nasty-looking one, Prince Zachariah, giving me the cold shoulder all night. But whatever. He missed out on all the mutton because he wouldn't come near me."

"You're so gross," Sam said amusedly.

"You shut your mouth, that stuff was fucking delicious. Anyway, there's gonna be a tourney a week from now, and everyone's getting really excited for it. Can't wait to kick everyone's asses. And you better be there, cheering me on, got it?"

"I dunno," Sam said, grinning. "I've always been a fan of Sir Henrikson."

This resulted in a minor wrestling match on the forge floor, which was cut short when Bobby came by and physically pulled them apart, setting Sam by the fire again. 

"None of that, you three," he said, and headed off again. Dean grinned, dusting himself off. Sam shook his head, a small cloud of dirt puffing out of his floppy hair. Then Dean turned on Castiel. 

"What about you, Cas?" he said. "You gonna come watch?"  
"I-" Castiel said.

Tourneys. Tourneys, of all things. It suddenly became very clear why Anna had looked at him with such concern. 

"I don't know," he said. "My family is preparing to leave. We may not be here in a week's time." 

Dean's smile faded. 

"Cas, come on," Sam said, turning on him. "You'll be here. There's no way you guys can pack up and leave in a week. The oil import hasn't even come yet." 

"I don't know," Castiel said, a little helplessly. "I don't know."

"Whatever," Dean said. "It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Castiel said, frustrated. "And I want to be there for you. I just don't-"  
His words faltered. "I have always supported you in this endeavor, Dean," he said. "I don't wish to stop now."

Dean's gaze softened, and he squeezed in between Sam and Cas.

"It's okay, Cas," he said. "Really. Whatever happens, happens. If you can't make it, that's fine." 

Sam peeked over Dean's shoulder. "But you'll tell us once you know when you're leaving, right?" he said worriedly. "You won't just- go."

"Right," Castiel said. "Yes. Of course."

"Good," Sam and Dean said as one, and Sam kicked at Dean's leg, and in a few moments they were all on the ground, rolling and wrestling and laughing.

Though he did not know it, it was Cas's last day with Sam and Dean. 

It was a happy one.

xxx

"The oil import has come in," Michael said at dinner. "From Lord Azrael. He was more than generous. He said the immigration rates from our kingdom to his ought to go down now."

"Wonderful!" Samandriel said brightly. "The people will be pleased."

"And maybe people will stop stealing the royal stores," Gabriel muttered. Michael glared at him. "Oh, sorry, was that hushed up? My apologies."

Anna bit her lip. "Ah," she said, "Castiel-"

"We'll speak later, sister," he said. 

He tried the mutton. It was delicious.

xxx

"Castiel, I don't know how much you've thought about this," Anna said. "But now that the import's come in-"

"Dean thought you were beautiful," Castiel said.

Anna stopped. "He said that?"

"He said you were the most beautiful woman at the ceremony," he said. "He went on about you. It was a bit embarrassing for me; he doesn't know you're my sister, naturally."

Anna blinked, then frowned. "You are trying to distract me."

"I am not," Castiel said. "He really said all those things."

"I'm sure he did," she said. "You are most dishonest by nature, Castiel. You are still trying to distract me. But this is important."

She sat by Castiel's side. "You can avoid a blacksmith boy forever as a prince," she said, "but you can't avoid a knight as his friend. He will see you eventually. You must understand this."

"I do," Castiel said quietly.

"Then listen. You have three options. You can run away. But you've already said you wouldn't. So you really only have two. You can tell him the truth."

"I can't," Castiel said. "It's too late, he'll hate me. He won't understand."

"Or you could leave him now," Anna said softly. "A clean break. And he will never see you again, not at tournaments or dinners or anything. You could easily hide from him if you have faded from his memory. He did not learn your true name?" 

"No," Castiel said quietly. 

"It is up for you to decide, lord brother," Anna said. "I only wish for you to do what you think is best for you."

xxx

The forge had flowers growing out front, little clusters of crocuses and dandelions. It smelt like spring.

Castiel stood outside, breathing in the musty smell of metal and wood and smoke. 

Thank you, he told the disheveled little building, for everything, then stepped inside.

"Cas!" Dean called, coming out to meet him. "Where've you been? The fire needs some-"

"I have to leave, Dean," Castiel said. "Today. I'm sorry."

Dean stared at him. "What?"

"My family-" Castiel swallowed. "My family is returning home. The import has come in, and our oil is no longer required in this kingdom. I just came to say farewell, and- and to wish you good fortune, and-"

Dean was suddenly much closer than before, squinting at Castiel. "Something's wrong," he said. "Cas, what's wrong? You don't have to go."

"Yes I do!" Castiel didn't mean to shout, but it came out too loud and Dean's eyes widened. "Dean, I can't change the way things are. And I wish I could, but I-"

"You're crying," Dean said, very softly. He reached up, touched the bead of water on Castiel's cheek. Castiel stiffened at the touch.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not doing so purposefully."

And then he was wrapped in Dean's arms, so tightly that he couldn't have hugged him back even if he had wanted to. 

"Cas," Dean said. "I don't know what it is that's forcing you to leave, if it's your asshole family or whatever. But if you don't want to go, don't go. I know me and Sammy don't have much, but we can still handle another person, and Bobby can probably pay you until you find a job. We can take care of you."

Castiel could feel the tears on his face now, but he still felt detached from them, like they were something foreign. "Dean-"

"Don't go," Dean said, so quietly that Castiel almost didn't hear, even though Dean's mouth was right next to his ear. "Please, Cas, don't leave."

He pulled back and looked at Castiel, who could feel the burning in his eyes now, and for a very frightening moment, Castiel thought he might love Dean, really love him.

He should have left months ago, months and months ago. He should have run off when Dean had scared off those muggers in the street.

He pulled away. "Dean," he said. "Thank you for everything you've done. I- there is no way to thank you properly, or repay what has been given. And-"

"Cas, will you fucking listen to me-"

"I will always remember you," Castiel finished. 

And he left the forge without looking back.

xxx

Anna was waiting for him when he re-entered the castle. She was unfolding his robes when she saw his face.

"Oh, Castiel," she said, and she dropped the clothes and had her arms around him in an instant, "what happened?"

"Nothing happened, Anna," he said, pushing her gently away. "Everything's all right now."

She stared at him, looking skeptical. "Castiel, I haven't seen you cry in your entire life. What's wrong?" Her eyes glittered dangerously. "Was it the blacksmith boy? What did he say?"

"Anna," Castiel said. "I don't want to talk about it." 

She stared at him, then said, "All right."

"I am not returning to the village," he said. "The import oil has come in, there is no more reason for me to go."

"All right," Anna said. "I'm sorry, Castiel."

And she gave him his clothes, and was gone. 

xxx

Castiel did not often leave his room in the next few days. 

Meg kept him company, most of the time, doing her usual chores. 

"Well, it seems we've come full circle," she said. "You're just as mopey and boring as you were a year ago." 

"That's true," Castiel said. He was looking out the window again, the candles all alight in the homes, and trying to remember the happiness that they had brought.

Meg stopped swishing her mop in the bucket. "Look, Your Highness," she said. "I get it. You miss your blacksmith boy. And my heart bleeds for you. But what's done is done. And you ought to remember, it was you who ran away, not him. There are no what-if scenarios anymore, Prince Castiel. You just have to let it go." 

"Yes," Castiel said distantly. The forge's fire was not lit.

"For heaven's sake," Meg snapped, dropping the mop. "That is it. Don't say I never did anything for you." 

And she stomped out. 

xxx

Castiel left his room for five minutes to use the chamber pots. When he returned, Gabriel was going through his desk, Balthazar was lounging on his bed, Zachariah was drawing the curtains of his window, and Michael was standing erect at the center of the room, turning around when Castiel entered. 

Castiel held back a groan. 

"Brother!" Gabriel said, slamming a drawer shut. "As your loving older brothers, we are intervening in your frankly embarrassing behavior." 

"Your maid," Zachariah began, his lips curling in distaste, "asked us to speak with you." He returned to tugging at the curtains. "It is far too drafty in here, Castiel, you are certain to catch another chill."

"I don't-" Castiel began, but Michael cut him off. "Castiel, it is unbecoming of a prince to be so unsocial. Besides, you have not been out of the castle in months. Some variety would do you good."

"My lord," Castiel said, keeping himself from gritting his teeth, "I thank you for your concern, but I-"

"Come on, Cassie," Balthazar said, propping himself up on his elbows. "The tourneys will be beginning soon, and there's a whole host of new knights. You ought to at least be there for the opening joust."

"Excellent idea, Balthazar," Michael said. "Castiel, your presence is required at the opening tourney next week, as a member of the royal family."

Castiel went white. "The tourney?" he repeated. "No, I- I can't-"

"Of course you can!" Gabriel said. "It'll be a grand time. Big men hitting each other with sticks, I don't see any downside."

"Gabriel," Michael said reprovingly. "Very well, Castiel. You shall join us at the next tourney. That is all."

He swept out, Zachariah in his wake. Castiel turned back to Balthazar and Gabriel. "Please," he said, "please don't make me go."

"Such dramatics, little brother," Gabriel said. "I know the humanity of it all freaks you out, but honestly. We have our own box."

Balthazar shrugged. "You need some fresh air," he said. "And besides, there might be some wench or pretty knight there that catches your fancy. Who knows?"

"All right, let's not get overly optimistic," Gabriel said, and then he and Balthazar were gone. 

xxx

It was very hot the day of the tourney.

"I don't want to be here," Castiel muttered. 

"I know," Anna said, scanning the crowds. "What does your blacksmith look like again? So I can signal if I see him."

"It's no good, Anna, they're all in armor anyway, and why is it so hot, it's only spring yet-"  
"Nice to see you're getting into the spirit, Cassie," Balthazar said dryly. "Come, it's a lovely day, there's no need to be such a stormcloud."

Castiel scowled at him. "This is all your fault," he said.

Balthazar raised his eyebrows. "I haven't seen you this emotional about anything since you were six," he said. "Feelings are becoming on you, brother. You ought to try them out more often."

"I hate you," Castiel muttered. The chatter of the crowd below was reaching deafening levels. The layers of silk made it hard to breathe and it was hotter than was fair.

Samandriel tugged on his sleeve. "Brother, look!" he said excitedly. "The knights are coming out!"

Anna immediately sat down in front of Castiel to block him from the public eye. Castiel peered over her shoulder.

They rode out without helmets, to the screams and stomps of the crowd. Many of them Castiel had seen before, older men with nobility in their names, and then behind them, their sons. Behind them came the fresh-faced newcomers, who received the loudest screams of all. 

Dean headed up the back end of the line. He was flushed, and waved up to the crowds with the perfect amount of enthusiasm, and he was beautiful, so much so that one woman fainted dead away. Or maybe it was because of the heat. Castiel couldn't be sure. 

"That's him, Anna," he whispered. "The one in the back."

Anna scanned the crowd, then her eyes widened. "Oh," she said. "Oh, my."

Castiel groaned, and sunk down in his seat.

Samandriel was sitting on his knees, straining to see over Zachariah's head. "Sir Henrikson is competing!" he said to Castiel. "Oh, he'll be excellent, have you seen him fight before?"

Castiel shook his head. 

"The new knights look impressive, though," Samandriel said thoughtfully. "Do you have a favourite, Castiel? Anna?"

"I do like that fellow," Anna said, pointing to Dean. "The one with the nice eyes."  
Samandriel looked over her head, and Castiel grabbed her arm. "Anna!" he hissed. "Don't-"

"Lighten up, little brother," she whispered back. "It'll be all right. He shan't see you."

"You shouldn't be drawing attention to-"

"Oh, he's drawing plenty of attention without my help," Anna said. "You never said he was so handsome, Castiel, shame on you."

The world had officially turned against him. 

"Knights of the realm!" Michael shouted above the din. "Are you prepared?"

A roar.

"Very well!" Michael called. "Go to your places, and glory to the kingdom!"

"Glory to the kingdom!" the crowd called back, and the tourney began.

xxx

It was dreadfully boring. 

Castiel hid behind Anna most of the time, and the view from over her shoulder was nothing to compliment, but even then there was nothing much of interest. Even when Dean jousted, there was only a moment of nervous anticipation before he unseated his opponent and went riding off again. 

Anna ahead of him was politely interested, but Samandriel was delighted with every proceeding, and gave Castiel running commentary right up to the very last joust, which was endearing if a little incessant. 

"It's between Sir Henrikson and that Winchester knight," he whispered to Castiel. "They're equally matched, I think."

"No," Castiel said, despite himself. "Sir Dean will win."

Samandriel blinked. "You think so?"

Castiel nodded absently, turning back towards the field. Dean and Sir Henrikson came charging at each other, and there was a moment of hushed silence before Henrikson was on the ground and Dean was raising his lance in triumph.

The crowd went mad, screaming and stamping and rising to their feet as one. The royal family rose as well, Samandriel dragging Castiel up with him as Michael shouted something to Dean over the roar of the crowd. Castiel shook off Samandriel's arm and tried to sit down again. "No, I don't-"

Castiel couldn't help it that Dean saw him. 

He saw the gleaming helmet come sliding off, sunlight catching against Dean's hair and freckles and eyes and broad smile, and immediately tried to duck behind Anna and Balthazar, but it was too late. 

He saw Dean's wild, victorious smile falter, fall open. He saw Dean's lips form 'Cas', but the word went unnoticed by the roar of the crowd. He only just saw a hint of the shock and confusion in the flashing green eyes before Anna leaned backwards.

"You have fulfilled your duties, Castiel," she murmured into his ear. "You may go."

He skirted out the back and ran.

xxx

It didn't take long for Dean to find him. Five minutes at most.

It took six minutes for Castiel to be grabbed by the arm and shoved roughly into the castle wall. 

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean spat into his face, half his armour still on. "You're a- you're a fucking-"

"A prince," Castiel whispered. "I'm a prince. I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" Dean snapped. "Didn't tell me?"

Castiel nodded, mutely. Dean's arm was unyielding against his throat. 

"Why would-" Dean muttered, anger and hurt mingling together in the words. "Was I-"

He struggled to find words, face red and sputtering. Castiel waited, not bothering to fight Dean's grip on him. Just waiting for the blow.

"Was this just a game to you?" Dean finally managed. "Some sick joke between you and the roy- your fucking family? Me and Bobby, and- and Sam. We trusted you, and this whole time you were lying to us?"

Castiel tried to shake his head, which proved impossible. "No!" he wheezed. "No, I-"

But a sort of comprehension was dawning over Dean. "No," he said. "We were a charity, weren't we. The oil. And me becoming a knight."

His face molded suddenly, from one wounded and shocked to one of pure rage. 

"This wasn't a matter of me proving my worth," he spat. "You fucking set this whole thing up. Sending a recruiting committee- holy Virgin Mother. I'm a fucking idiot."

"No!" Castiel shouted, though admittedly weakly. "No, I didn't, I swear- Dean, I had nothing to do with-"

"Oi!" 

Both of them look around. Meg, panting and redfaced, stood a little ways away, holding a bucket and broom aloft, and despite the fact that Dean was in full armour and probably twice her size, he still recoiled the smallest bit. 

"You," Meg said. "What're you doing to His Highness?"

Dean's face twisted at the words, and he released Castiel as though he had burned him. "Nothing," he said sullenly. He took a final look at Castiel, pale and breathing heavily against the wall, and then turned away. 

"Don't expect to be seeing me again, my lord," Dean muttered, and then he was gone. 

Castiel let out a long breath and slid to the floor. Meg walked up and crouched down beside him. "You're all right then?" she asked critically, and at his nod, she whistled. 

"My lord Christ. Now, Your Highness, he may have just attacked you and all, but I certainly wouldn't mind having that knight there between my legs."

"You're disgusting," Castiel muttered, sliding back up the wall again. "I ought to fire you."

"You wouldn't survive a day without me, Your Highness, and you know it."

Castiel chuckled, without much humour. Meg looked at him, then out at the wall. 

"Yes," Castiel said, and said no more. 

"Your Highness," she said. "Was that your Dean of Winchester?"

xxx

Back in the hut, Dean struggled out of his armor and threw it at the wall. It made a satisfying crashing sound against the wall. 

Unfortunately, that meant Sam came running upstairs, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

One look at Dean's face answered that. "Dean. What's happened?"

"Cas," Dean ground out. 

Sam looked shocked, then worried. "Did he come back? Is he okay?"

"He's a prince, Sammy!" Dean shouted, running a hand over his face. "He's an heir to the kingdom, for Christ's sake. And he never said anything." 

Sam's eyebrows went up into his bangs. "Cas's- he's a prince?"

"Yeah. Well, Lord, there's so many of them, you wouldn't believe it. But I'd never seen him before today. He must have been hiding so- so we wouldn't know."

"To be honest, Dean," Sam said softly, "I'm not that surprised."

Dean looked up. "What?" 

"He said he came from far away," Sam said. "But his dialect is the same as ours. But then, his way of talking was more- refined, I guess, then ours. So I assumed he was probably of higher birth than us, and might have been hiding from his family. I didn't think he was a prince, but-"

"Fuck, Sam," Dean said, sitting down. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sam sat down too. "I figured it wasn't my business," he said. "Cas didn't seem to want to talk about it, and he was your friend. And I kind of thought you might figure it out on your own. He didn't know what a bellows was for, Dean. I mean, come on. If I thought it would matter so much, I would have said something."

He looked carefully at Dean. "Why does it matter so much?" he asked.

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said, his voice growing louder again. "Because he was being a dishonest little rich boy this whole time? Because he was probably just having fun playing commoner with us and then going home to a seven-course meal and silk sheets? Because he probably bribed my way into the royal guard? Take your pick."

Sam's eyebrows drew together. "You think Cas made High Prince Michael make you a knight?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "Probably. It doesn't matter. He's been a lying bastard this whole time."

"Dean," Sam said. "Maybe he did. I don't know. I wasn't with Cas as much as you were. But I always felt like Cas was really was trying to make a life here." 

"It doesn't matter," Dean said. "He lied to us. I'm quitting the guard."

Sam looked up at him in surprise and opened his mouth to say something, then looked down at his lap again. "Okay."

And fuck, that was the worst of it, seeing the sadness on Sam's face. Dean started struggling against the leather straps at his wrists, and Sam reached over quietly and undid them.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said. "I know you really liked Cas. I did too."

Dean almost snapped, almost started yelling again, but instead he just nodded. 

Sam didn't light a fire that night. It was warm enough out that they didn't need one, but Dean couldn't sleep in the dark or the chill of the night, and instead lay awake, doing his best to think about nothing. 

xxx

The High Prince Michael's throne was higher than it appeared to be from across the room, and Dean looked down when he knelt. "Your Highness."

"Sir Dean," Prince Michael said, sounding politely disinterested. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

Dean swallowed. "I would- I would like to resign my post, my lord."

Prince Michael raised an eyebrow. "Knighthood is a commitment of life, Sir Dean," he said. "And besides, why would you wish to leave? You've only just begun, and you seem to be doing well amongst your brethren."

"I'm not unhappy, my lord," Dean said, his throat dry, "nor am I ungrateful. It's just that I cannot accept-"

A door to the right of the prince's throne swung open, and both he and Dean turned. 

A woman in a rich gown walked in, hurried but regal. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with dark red hair, ivory skin, and huge eyes.

Dean couldn't help staring. Suddenly he remembered describing a beautiful red-haired princess to Sam and Cas, and recognized her. He knelt again because it felt like the right thing to do.

"Princess Anna," Prince Michael said, sounding startled. "What is your business here?"

"Begging your pardon, Your Highness," the princess said, inclining her head, "but I wish for a private word with Sir Dean, if it please you."

Dean stared at her. Michael looked between them. "Sir Dean has come to me looking to resign his post, my lady," he said. "Is this on that subject?"

The princess looked at Dean again, and Dean thought he saw a trace of affection in her eyes. "It may be," she said. "But before you grant him any resignation, though, I would like to speak with him." 

Michael appeared to contemplate this for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, my lady. Do as you please."

Anna curtsied to him, and beckoned a stunned Dean out of the throne room. 

xxx

"I am the Princess Anna," the princess said, presenting her hand for Dean to kiss. "I have heard a great deal about you, Sir Dean of Winchester." 

"Thank you, my lady," Dean said, "but from whom?"

She laughed, a short breathy laugh. "I admire your feats in knighthood, Sir Dean," she said, "and it grieves me that you wish to leave."

"Thank you, my lady," Dean muttered. 

The princess tilted her head. "But if I am right," she said, "it is not so much the position that displeases you as it is my brother Castiel."

Dean's head snapped up. Anna smiled, and moved away from him, pacing about the room.

"Castiel has always been a curious prince," she said. "He never really cared for being king, as our other brothers do. But he has always done what he thought was right. He has a very dear heart, Sir Dean. I think this is something that you have known for a long time, but have forgotten in your anger."

"My lady," Dean said, his teeth grit, "Cas- Prince Castiel has nothing to do with my resignation, and I see no reason to discuss him."

Luminous eyes turned on him again, and he shut up. The princess turned back to face him again. 

"I did not wish to talk to you about your resignation from knighthood, Sir Dean," she said, her voice clipped. "To me, it doesn't matter one way or another. However, you are making someone I love unhappy, and that is what we will discuss."

She leaned forward. "Castiel has not left his room in seven days," she said. "He refuses to go out. He hasn't eaten. He hasn't even let his maid in. I worry for him. Tell me what it is he did, exactly, that made you shun him so." 

"My lady-" Dean began, but she cut him off. "If I must, I can command you to tell me. I am still your princess, Sir Dean, and I do not have the soft spot for you that my brother does."

"Your brother lied to me," Dean said in a low voice. "He never once told me the truth about being- being a prince. He screwed around with me and my little brother for months. And, no disrespect to you, Your Highness, but perhaps you ought to tell him that the life of a commoner isn't a game. It's a real life. It's my life. And I don't care if he's twenty-third in line for the throne or if he's king already, it's not his to be playing with." 

His voice had risen over the course of his rant, and he suddenly realised his audience and shut up, glancing nervously to the door. The princess's head was tilted slightly, but she nodded.

"I see," she said. "You believe that Castiel was playing out a game with you. Imagining himself to be a commoner and then returning here and having a laugh about it."

Dean nodded, not willing to push his luck any further.

The princess leaned forward, and clasped one of his hands in hers. They were soft and pale, and reminded Dean of flower petals. 

"Sir Dean," she said, "no one knows of Castiel's excursions outside the castle but he, his maid, and I. They were a secret, because if it was found out by my lord brother, Castiel would be greatly punished. Therefore I ask that you keep what I am about to tell you under the strictest confidence." 

There was a part of Dean, a shallow and bitter part that wanted immediately to swing open the adjacent door and shout to the High Prince that his brother had been sneaking out of the castle for months. But that part of him was small and petty, and he squashed it down. Instead, he nodded mutely to Princess Anna. 

She smiled at him. "My brother was not leaving the castle to play with peasants, Sir Dean," she said. "I doubt he ever meant to interact with you, or anyone, or even to leave the palace more than once. He only left because I convinced him to do so. Castiel had never left the palace until the day you met him. If I am completely honest with you, I believe the outside world may frighten him." 

Dean remembered Castiel's reluctance to engage with crowds, his lack of common sense when it came to human interaction. That, at least, made sense. "Then why bother coming at all?"

The princess gave a small, sad-looking smile. "There was something of great importance to him," she said. "Something that only he could do, that he risked his freedom to revive. He went down into the kingdom to bring something he loved back."

"What was it?" Dean said, interested despite himself. He tried to think of Castiel looking for something or talking about something important, but all he can remember is Cas- his Cas, not the silk-wrapped Prince Castiel- sitting by the fire with his knees to his chest, watching Dean work and smiling as Bobby threatened him and Sam chattered away.   
His chest clenched, involuntarily.

The princess was still watching him, and looking at his expression, smiled and put two fingers under his chin, tilting it up to look at her.

"I think," she said, "you ought to ask him yourself."

"I- no," Dean said loudly. "No. I don't want to talk to him. I don't ever want to see him again."

"I know," the princess said. "I know you don't, Sir Dean. I do understand. But please, you must ask Castiel why he left the castle. Perhaps then you might understand."

"Look, Your Highness, I really don't-"

"Sir Dean," Anna said, and her voice was still kind, but it was firm. "After today, you may never have to speak to my brother again, and you may leave the guard as well if you so choose. But I only ask that you demand an explanation of Castiel. I believe it will do you both good."

She was still a princess, and the younger sister of the High Prince, and Dean couldn't say no, not really. Admittedly, there was a part of him that didn't want to. 

"All right, okay," Dean grumbled. "I mean, yes, Your Highness."

Anna pulled back, smiling brightly. "I do like you, Sir Dean," she said. "If I never see you again, I want to thank you for the happiness you've brought my brother."

She raised her voice. "Meg!"

A short woman in a servant's uniform entered the room, looking distinctly annoyed. She winked at him, and Dean flinched. 

"Meg tells me you've met before," the princess said, looking between them. 

"Oh, yes," Meg said, in a sweet, syrupy voice, sidling up to Dean, who in turn slid away. "A pleasure to meet you again, sir."

Dean scowled at her. 

"Meg is Castiel's personal maid," Anna said. "She will bring you to his chambers. Directly to his chambers," she said pointedly to Meg, who gave a very low curtsy in reply. Dean hadn't known it was possible to curtsy sarcastically. 

"Now go," Anna said. "And I wish you the best of luck, Sir Dean. Truly."

She kissed him on the cheek, then moved past him and opened the door.

"Follow me, sir," Meg said cheerfully, and took him by the elbow, dragging him out. 

The last Dean saw of the princess, she was closing the door, a strangely forlorn look on her face. 

xxx

"I hope the princess told you that His Highness has been moping over you for days," the maid called Meg said. "It's getting quite annoying, if you ask me."

"If you ask me, shut the fuck up," Dean muttered, but Meg just laughed.

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you. I can see why Prince Castiel has been pining after you for so long." 

She looked over her shoulder, gave Dean a once-over, and made an appreciative noise. "I actually can see why. Castiel never did go into great length into your form."

Castles sure were awfully big. 

"You know," Meg said conversationally. "I, for one, dislike you, and if this wasn't a cushy job and I had a death wish, I certainly would be leading you in the wrong direction."

Dean nearly stopped, realised he didn't care, and kept walking. "Why is that?"

"Well, you've made my job a fuckton harder," Meg said. "And His Highness has been getting harder to deal with. All he ever talks about is you and- well, you. He's become terribly dull. And now he'll probably make a bastard by me." 

The nod-and-smile routine had worked really well right up till then. Dean nearly choked. "What?"

Meg just smirked. "You heard me. Oh, here we are."

There was a great, arching door, shut tight in the middle of a hall. Meg gave him a sideways look. "Well, here we are."

She leaned into the door and knocked lightly. "Your Highness? It's Meg."

"Go away," came a moan from inside, and Dean stared at the door. That sounded nothing like Cas- tired and worn, like a man much older. 

Meg rolled her eyes. "Your Highness, as much as I'd love to leave you to wallow in your own filth for another month or so, there's someone here to see you."

"Tell them I'm indisposed."

"They're here with me," Meg said. "They can tell you're not indisposed."

"Is it Anna?"

"No."

"Michael?"

"No."

"Samandriel?"

"No." 

"Gabriel?"

"Lord, no- Christ, just go on," Meg snapped, pulling open the doors and shoving Dean inside, slamming the door behind him.

The room was huge, with a very high ceiling and a window that encompassed nearly all of the opposite wall. Other than that, though, there was nothing much of interest in the room- a four poster bed on one side and a small desk on the other.

There was a lump in the bed, buried in the covers, and Dean could see only a black mop of hair on top of the pillows. 

"Balthazar, if that's you, please go away," Castiel said, his voice muffled in his pillow. "I'm not in the mood right now."

"It's me," Dean said. "Ca- it's me. Dean."

Castiel was still for a moment, then he scrambled up, getting temporarily tangled in the sheets before landing on his feet, hopping a few times to catch his balance and running a hand through his hair. Dean had a brief moment of terror at the realisation that Castiel was wearing only a white longshirt, but was derailed when he realised Castiel looked ten times more horrified.

"Dean." Castiel breathed out his name like both a prayer and a curse. "What are you doing here?"

"You look like shit," Dean said, because it was easier to address that first. "Virgin Mother. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing," Castiel said, looking out the window and then to Dean and then back out the window again. "I haven't- I haven't left my room. Mostly I've been sleeping. I'm-"

He looked extremely embarrassed. "I'm very sorry," he said. "I'm not very presentable at the moment. I- I didn't expect to see you."

He looked up at Dean, and fuck, the look in his eyes just wasn't fair. "Dean," he said again. "Why are you here?" 

He sat down on the edge of his bed, and Dean sat down beside him without thinking, realising too late his error- he was fucking furious with Cas, for one thing, and Cas was practically naked, for another, and Castiel was also a prince now, and not Cas by the fire at the forge. Even so, he couldn't find it in himself to stand back up. 

"In all honesty, Your Highness," Dean said, "I came to leave the royal guard."

Castiel winced. "Dean-"

"But then your sister detained me," Dean said. "Said I should talk to you. Kind of forced me to."

"Anna," Castiel muttered, sounding murderous. Dean ignored that.

"Now," Dean said. "If you want a chance to explain yourself, this is it, and make it fast because I really don't want to be here."

He was refusing to look at Castiel, resolutely, but Castiel stared at him as he always did anyway.

"Please," Castiel said. "Please, Dean, look at me."

"That a royal command?" Dean muttered, still looking down. 

"No," Castiel said, his voice cracking. "No. You don't ever have to do anything I ask of you if you don't want to. I just want you to look at me. Please." 

After a moment, Dean looked up, and his eyes met Castiel's. He blinked, then looked away again. 

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel whispered. "I should have been honest with you from the beginning." 

"Fuck yeah, you should've," Dean said, his voice loud and bouncing back against the walls. "Messing with my head, and all this time for what?"

Castiel bit his lip. "I didn't mean to," he said, weakly. "I only wanted-"

He stopped. "Dean, it was never my intention to hurt you or take advantage of you," he said. "It was never my intention to become involved with you at all, and I am sorry that I did. It seems that it has only came out for the worse for both of us." 

Dean mulled this over for a minute, his face stony, then said, "Why did you come?"

Castiel looked up. "It was the oil," he said. "I didn't understand why all the lights went out at night, why candles weren't lighting anymore. Meg- you met Meg, my maid-"

Dean made a displeased grunting sound. 

Castiel nodded. "She said it was because people couldn't afford oil, and Anna said that Michael refused to give our stocks to the people even though we had a surplus. So I borrowed commoner's clothes from her, stole some of the surplus oil and snuck out of the castle."

"You and that oil," Dean said. "That's what this was all about?" 

"The lights were always important to me," Castiel said. "My father used to show them to me when I was very young. He said that every light was a person that it was our job to watch over and protect. And... I thought they were beautiful. When they stopped coming on, I wanted-"

He paused. "I wanted to bring them back," he said. "Not so much for the people, but for myself. I wasn't being regal. I was being selfish."

"So why didn't you, I don't know," Dean said, "get a lackey to do it?"

"All the servants are watched," Castiel said. "Especially mine, because she's..."  
"Bitchy," Dean supplied.

"Insubordinate," Castiel amended. "I turned to Anna, and she suggested I go secretly. I am not an authority figure nor do I often appear outside the castle; I assumed I would not be recognised, so I went. You know that it did not go as well the first day as I hoped." 

"So those guys who tried to steal from you," Dean said slowly, "it wasn't a setup. You were really getting mugged."

Castiel nodded after a moment, looking wounded. "Did you really think it was entirely an elaborate trick?"

"I didn't know what to believe," Dean muttered. "So why'd you keep coming back? To the forge?"

Castiel leaned back. "At first it was because it was easier to distribute the oil by slipping it into the bags of your customers," he said, then laughed at the look on Dean's face. "Did you really not notice? I didn't think I was that subtle."

"Yeah, well," Dean said, "you're a sneaky bastard at heart. And then?"

Castiel sighed. "And then I kept coming back because I liked seeing you," he said. "Because I wanted to be with you. It was foolish, but..."

Tentatively, he reached out, and his fingertips brushed Dean's face. Dean stiffened but didn't pull away.

"You are the first friend I have ever had, Dean of Winchester," Castiel said softly. "You are beautiful, and strong, and so beloved by those around you. I regret my dishonesty, but I do not regret the time I spent with you. It was the happiest I had ever been." 

Dean made a strangled sound. "Cas, you're a fucking prince," he said. "And the happiest you've ever been is in a filthy forge?"

"With you," Castiel said. "And with your family. It was a real life. A happy one. Before leaving the castle, Dean, my life was looking down on lights from a window and watching from a distance as my brothers quarreled. It was... empty, I suppose. There was nothing that meant anything, not really. Not ever. But being in the village, with you and your brother and Bobby Singer- it was real. It meant something. I felt like I was doing something right, and I was a part of something. There had been nothing like that for me before."

Dean was very still. Castiel smiled sadly at him. "If I could," he said, "I would trade all of this life, all of the riches and the royalty and the nonsense it entails, if it meant I could live the life I shared with you."

"That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard," Dean said, his voice cracking.

"Maybe," Castiel said. "But I still would do it." 

Castiel thought Dean might have kissed him first, but he wasn't really sure, because he had been aching for it since before Dean had come in and probably long before then too. 

It didn't really matter though, not when Dean had one hand at the back of his neck and the other wrapped around his waist, and Dean's hair was between his fingers, bristly and soft. Not when Dean was kissing him furiously, angrily, like Castiel was the problem and the solution, like no matter how hard Dean may kiss him, it would never be enough. 

Dean's skin was rough, but his mouth was as hot as the fire back in the forge, and he felt like home. 

They pulled apart eventually, when both of them ran out of breath at once, and stared at each other, panting. 

"Shit," Dean said. 

Castiel nodded. 

"That was a bad idea," Dean said. "And by a bad idea, I mean a colossally-"

"I love you," Castiel said.

Dean stared at him for a moment, then groaned, running a hand through his hair. "That's even worse." 

He looked up at Castiel through his eyelashes, then leaned up to kiss him again. Almost too late, Castiel realised his mistake, and put a hand on his chest, holding him back. 

"What I meant was," Castiel said quickly, "is that's the reason I did it- all of it. But you don't need to- to feel obligated. If you don't want-"

"Christ," Dean said, and he had a half-irritated, half-fond look on his eyes. "You're even worse as a prince. Come here." 

And he kissed him again, long and slow and sure. 

"I'm still mad at you," he said, the words a bite against Castiel's lips. "Just so you know."

"Understandable," Castiel gasped. Dean's hand was trailing down his back, finding the edge of his shirt and sliding beneath it to cup the warm skin beneath.

"But-" Dean said, and he moved from Castiel's mouth to his neck, his collarbone, the slope of his shoulder, biting and kissing in equal parts. "I think we can put that on hold for now."

Castiel pulled him back up and kissed him, messily, desperately, and Dean laughed, pushing Castiel back into the bedsheets. 

"Dean," Castiel whispered. "Dean. I missed you."

His fingers fumbled clumsily against the buttons of Dean's shirt, and Dean did nothing to help him; he had returned to the expanse of Castiel's throat and shoulders, lavishing attention to the sharp edges of the bone there. 

"I've never-" Castiel said, managing to loosen the collar of Dean's shirt. "I don't- oh- Dean!"

Dean laughed, fingers splayed across Castiel's ass and shoulder blades. "I thought so," he said, placing a surprisingly sweet kiss at the bridge of Castiel's nose, between his eyes. "Don't worry." 

Castiel gave up on the shirt and threw his arms around Dean's neck again, letting himself be pressed deeper into the bed. 

"You're beautiful," he gasped, between kisses, Dean's hands everywhere against his skin, warm and just delicious. "Dean, I love you." 

Dean paused in all of his movement, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Castiel repeated, breathlessly. "Yes." 

Dean opened his eyes again. "You're an asshole," he said, "don't you fucking dare leave me again," and then he was everywhere, his hands and skin and lips were all over, and there were no more words for a while. 

xxx

"Why'd you leave?" Dean said, turning over in the sheets. "I was so fucking scared, Cas. I thought someone was going to kill you or something, you looked so miserable." 

It was dark in the night, and moonlight trickled through Castiel's window. They had slept, and loved each other, and slept some more without being disturbed, and Dean's arm was around Castiel's waist. 

"I didn't wish to leave you," Castiel said, his face smushed, half against a pillow and half against Dean's shoulder. "But I thought it would be best for both of us if I severed the connection between us before it caused any unhappiness. You were a knight, I was a prince. There were bound to be problems eventually, especially if it were found that I-" A wry smile crept across his face, "that I favoured you, as it were."

Dean grinned up at the ceiling. 

"I wish I could have left you more gracefully than I did," Castiel continued, "but I was very unsure of what to do. I wanted to be certain that you wouldn't fear for my safety or look for me. I was quite sure we would never see each other again."

"That's why you were crying," Dean said. "You're such a strange one. Anyway, if you didn't want me seeing you, how come you came to the joust?" 

Castiel pushed some hair out of his face. "I hate tourneys," he said. "Forgive me, Dean, but they bear no interest for me and the crowds frighten me. But my brother, the High Prince, sometimes insists the entire royal family attend. Mostly he lets me feign illness because he knows I dislike them, but my other brothers believe I ought to get out and mingle with the people more. So occasionally I must go. I did my best to hide in the one you were jousting in, but as you know, I did not succeed." 

"And then I went and hunted you down," Dean said. "Damn, Cas. I'm sorry. No wonder you hate tourneys."

"Never a pleasant experience," Castiel muttered. "But you must know I had nothing to do with your becoming a knight. It was all by Michael's whim, not mine. I have no control over any royal decisions made. You are a knight purely by your own merit."

"I kinda figured," Dean said. "Well, I mean, that makes sense now. I dunno why I thought differently before. I should've believed you."

He looked up at Dean. "What will you do, Dean?" he said. "Now that you know the truth."

Dean opened his mouth, but Castiel put a finger to his lips. "I will not tell you to do anything," he said. "You still have all options available to you. You may leave the guard if you wish. We do not have to meet again if you do not want to. I will not force myself on you."

Dean stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," Castiel said. "I have never wished to make you feel obligated towards me. That's part of the reason I never told you of my true identity."

"So you think-" Dean made a vague gesture at the both of them, naked between the sheets, "you think I did this because I felt obligated?"

Castiel rolled over to face the ceiling, fingers knit over his chest. "I hoped not," he said. "I thought I made it clear you owe nothing to me. But should you ever tire of me, then I will not force you to stay where you do not wish to."

"And if you tire of me?" Dean said, still on his side. "What about you?"

"I don't expect I shall ever tire of you," Castiel said. "But-"

But Dean had rolled on top of him, smothering whatever he would have said, and kissed him, not as fiercely as before, but just as firmly. 

He pulled away after a minute, folding his arms over Castiel's chest and grinning down on the sight of the prince breathless. "I don't think I'm likely to tire of you either, Your Highness," he said. "So don't worry about that just yet." 

"So-" Castiel said, and cautiously leaned up for another kiss, which Dean took smoothly. "So would you- like to stay with me?"

"Yeah," Dean said, and then leaned down and buried his face in Castiel's neck. "Yeah, I think I would. And I'm just gonna stay here for a bit and sleep some more, that okay?"  
"Yes," Castiel said, dazed. "Yes, that's perfectly fine."

"Awesome," Dean said drowsily into Castiel's collarbone, and slowly, his breathing grew deep and slow.

Castiel lay there, relishing in the warm weight of Dean, until Meg came into with a basket of sheets, noticed them, put the sheets on the floor and made a rude hand gesture at Castiel, and left. Only after that was he able to go to sleep. 

xxx

Dean didn't leave the guard. 

Castiel grew to tolerate tourneys, eventually, despite the heat and noise of it. It was worth it to see the flush of victory on Dean, the roar of the crowd. Sam would cheer from the seats, wave at Dean with both hands and then at Castiel, face bright and happy. Bobby would occasionally come watch as well, and sometimes stamp his feet when Dean unseated his opponent in a particularly spectacular way. 

"He is quite impressive," Michael said to Castiel one night. "I am glad to have him in my service."

"And I, my lord," Castiel said. 

"Of that I am sure," Michael said, his eyes twinkling in an uncharacteristic and rather unsettling way. "Sir Dean of Winchester will be a champion, I'm sure, and if he were to be yours-"

Castiel had looked up, startled. "My lord-"

Michael had looked down on him, sideways. "I have always cared for you, brother," he said. "And you do not bring this house any trouble. If Sir Dean of Winchester pleases you, then let him please you. It is no concern of mine." 

He put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Though I know you are not pleased by it," he said, "you are a good prince, Castiel. And a good brother. Remember that."

Castiel swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. "Thank you, my lord."

"Thank you, little brother," Michael said, and then he was gone. 

xxx

"You know, they're not so bad," Dean said idly one night, slipping the armour off his shoulders. "The royal family."

"I think so as well," Castiel said softly, looking through the window. "Truly, I think all along I may have been underestimating my siblings."

"Mm," Dean said. "Maybe. Hey, stop looming over the kingdom for a second and look at me."

Castiel turned around, and Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him.   
"Considering we've got the royal seal of approval now," Dean said against his lips, "I think that's something to celebrate."

"Mm," Castiel hummed, letting Dean tug him towards the bed. "I told Sam I would help him with the new text tomorrow, though, so-"

"Hey, hey, shut up a minute," Dean said, and he pulled Castiel down onto the bed, leaning over him. Castiel wound his arms around his neck and was obediently silent. 

"I love you," Dean whispered, the words a breath against Castiel's lips. "Okay?"

Castiel blinked. Dean repeated, "Okay?"

"Yes," Castiel said quickly. "Yes, okay. Yes."

And he pulled Dean down onto him, crushing their lips together. 

xxx

Once upon a time there was a knight and a prince, and after a few false starts and a couple of mistakes, they decided that they wanted to stay together.

Songs would be written about the both of them, songs of the knight's bravery and of the prince's heart, which was kind and full of light. The songs would spread through the lands, and the kingdom would prosper again, because even though the prince was not born to be a king, and the knight was not born to be a consort, they were both heroes in their own ways.

But the best songs were those written about their love, because love was the best part of themselves. And it was those songs that would live beyond them, carry far into a future after the prince and the knight were gone. Even after the kingdom itself had gone to rest, the songs were remembered, and hummed, and sung like a call of joy. 

Once upon a time a prince and a knight fell in love, and in doing so became immortal.


End file.
